Final Fantasy: Point of Intersection
by Axwind
Summary: This is an FF crossover story, a serious tale that depicts the intersection of worlds, lives, hearts, and souls. A deep love grows between two very unlikely people from different worlds, but can it survive the coming darkness? Ellone x Vincent
1. Chapter 1

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


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**CHAPTER 1**  


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With a muffled shriek, Ellone woke from the nightmare.

She was cold, so cold. Always when the dreams came, she was cold. The chill touch of death, of something beyond death. It seemed to freeze her very bones, her marrow, until she wondered if she had ever known what warmth was. Shivering, trembling like a newborn chocobo, she sat and wrapped her arms tightly about herself as her stomach twisted itself into knots.

_Shadows that are not shadows. Black wings ride the wind. Death in the night._

The memory of the nightmare was fading, but fragments remained of its hellish visions. What they were Ellone could not say, nor did she want to, for to look into them too deeply was madness. Her heart beat furiously in terror as a fell chorus of harsh, unearthly voices slithered maddeningly through her mind in icy, sibilant whispers.

_One is many. Many are one. The darkness stirs._

A loud, discordant buzzing, like the sound an extremely agitated bumblebee might make, abruptly blotted out the murmuring voices and jerked Ellone to full consciousness. She reached over beside the bed and almost reluctantly switched off her alarm clock, plunging the room back into an uneasy silence. As she did so, she glanced at the clock's display, which showed the time to be 5:00 a.m.

Ellone swung her legs out over the edge of the bed, put her bare feet on the floor, and rubbed her eyes wearily as warmth seeped back into her body and her trembling lessened. Though she felt as though her eyelids might slam shut again at any minute, she knew without a doubt that she would have no more sleep this morning. The dreams had seen to that.

As her sight acclimated to the gloom, she was able to make out the familiar surroundings of her guest quarters in Balamb Garden. There was her dresser, across from the bed, and above it hung a mirror within which she could make out her own darkened reflection amidst the shadows. The closet door was slightly ajar, probably from when she had hung up some of her things last night, and on the far wall was a window that looked out over the frozen snowfields of Trabia, where the Garden currently hovered.

With a weary sigh, Ellone rose and padded over to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, she glanced at herself in the mirror and froze, appalled at how haggard and disheveled she looked. Circles lay under her eyes, and her sky blue nightdress was stained with sweat. She realized then that she was covered with it, that she must have been sweating profusely in terror in spite of the bone-numbing cold that had coursed through her while she had been dreaming.

She pulled off the soaked nightdress and immersed herself in a long, hot shower, hoping that the steam and the pleasant sensation of running water against her skin might help her relax and forget for a while the nightmares that had been haunting her for the last few days. Raking her fingers through her short hair as water trickled in rivulets down her back and thighs, she let herself soak for a while as her troubled thoughts drifted aimlessly about.

When Elle had dried herself off and slipped into her bathrobe, however, she still felt uneasy. She brushed her hair almost mechanically, unable to enjoy this part of her morning routine as much as she usually did. In the back of her mind, she saw fragments of her dreams, visions of fire and darkness, of a blackened, withered Hand gripping her in its clammy, deathly cold grasp.

The brush slipped from her trembling fingers and clattered to the bathroom floor. Clutching the edge of the sink so tightly her knuckles whitened, Ellone fought desperately to calm herself. They were only nightmares, weren't they? Probably only old memories of Adel or Ultimecia, she told herself, yet in her heart Ellone knew they were not.

She dressed hurriedly, throwing on a plain white blouse and an ankle-length sky blue skirt, and as she left, she grabbed her green silk shawl and the thick winter coat Selphie had loaned her. Ellone had never traveled this far north before, and although she had taken a few warm things with her from Esthar, they hadn't kept Trabia's bitter cold from reaching her whenever she stepped outside.

Ellone's footsteps echoed softly in the nearly deserted hallways of Balamb Garden. Through the windows, Elle could see that the sky was beginning to lighten with the approach of dawn, and she could just make out the towering, jagged silhouettes of the nearby mountains that surrounded Trabia Garden within their protective circle.

Balamb Garden hovered just a mile or so away from the newly rebuilt Trabia Garden. During the second Sorceress War, Trabia Garden had nearly been destroyed by a missile salvo fired by the Galbadians under the orders of Sorceress Edea and her knight, Seifer Almasy. After the defeat of Ultimecia, a massive reconstruction project headed by Instructor Selphie Tilmitt and sponsored by Headmaster Cid Kramer of Balamb Garden had begun on the shattered remnants of Trabia Garden.

Tomorrow night a celebration was to be held to mark the completion of the reconstruction efforts, and dignitaries from around the world had come here to Trabia to officially recognize the rebuilt Garden's restoration. Elle was here representing Esthar along with Kiros and Ward, her uncle's two closest friends and advisors. Uncle Laguna was the president of Esthar and would have been here himself, Ellone knew, but for duties elsewhere.

Elle herself had no real standing in the Estharian government, but as the president's adopted daughter, she was usually listened to. Kiros and Ward, however, did hold official positions as Laguna's top aides and so he had sent them with her to Trabia to give her official as well as moral support. She was nervous about her part in the ceremony, as she had never had to make a speech in front of what would likely be a very large crowd before, but having Kiros and Ward there with her would help, she knew.

A light tap on her shoulder brought her abruptly out of her thoughts, and she looked to her left to see that Squall, the young man she cared for as a little brother, had fallen into step beside her. He wore his favorite fur-lined black leather jacket over a gray shirt tucked into a pair of black pants, and from his brown leather belt hung his gunblade, the Lionheart.

It was still hard for Ellone to believe sometimes that he was a man now, and not the little boy she had been forced to leave behind so long ago. It saddened her that she had missed so much of his life, that she hadn't been there for him when he had needed her most. He was what, nineteen now? A good five years younger than her, and yet in command of the most prestigious military school in the world.

Morning, Sis, the brown-haired, blue-eyed youth greeted her with a slight nod of his head. You're up early today.

This was her third day aboard the mobile Garden that had brought her here from Esthar, where Squall and Headmaster Cid had been negotiating with Uncle Laguna and other officials in the Estharian government about the possibility of setting up a Garden facility there. That, among other things, was what had kept Uncle Laguna from coming here to Trabia, so Elle had agreed to go instead as a favor for him and as a chance to visit with Squall, whom she had rarely seen much of lately.

She sighed. some bad dreams, that's all. They're probably nothing.

Are you sure? Squall asked. It doesn't sound like nothing to me.

I'm fine, Squall, really. It's nothing to worry about.

if you insist. I'll still worry, though, Sis. You know that.

Elle managed a small smile. Some things never changed. Of course you will. You always do.

Abruptly, Squall stopped and put a hand on her arm to bring her to a halt. His typically distant expression was gone, replaced by one of concern. It's just I don't want to see anything bad happen to you. You've been through enough already.

I know. Ellone gently squeezed his other hand. But please, just trust me, okay?

He sighed and nodded. Alright, but if anything else strange happens, I want you to tell me.

I will. By the way, what brings you out here so early yourself?

It's sort of part of the job description, I guess. One of the burdens of command, having to be up well before everyone else, but it's the only way I can keep up with all the paperwork I thought I'd never have to do, not to mention that it's just about the only time I have to myself during the day. But I've had a few other things on my mind, myself, Sis, now that you mention it.

Oh? Tell me.

It's nothing all that serious, really, Squall said. He sighed and leaned tiredly against the wall. It'll probably just bore you.

After all that's happened recently, I don't think I'd mind a little boredom. Things have finally calmed down now. I'd like to think that they would stay that way.

I guess I'll tell you. Do you want to talk about it over breakfast? The cafeteria should be open about now, I think.

Elle smiled. I'd like that. I didn't know the cafeteria was open so early, though.

They sort of have to be, Squall remarked as he and Elle began walking again. The breakfast rush is almost as bad as the rush for hot dogs later on. All those students coming in from early morning drills in the quad, you know. We'll probably have about an hour or so to ourselves before it hits.

That ought to be enough, I think.

They reached the cafeteria after a few moments and walked up to the counter, where two middle-aged women were busily setting up platters and dishes in preparation for the inevitable morning rush of which Squall had spoken. Ellone's stomach rumbled at the fragrant aromas emerging from the kitchen area, smells of muffins and bacon and other such goodies.

She selected a half of a fresh cantaloupe, a pair of hot blueberry muffins smothered in melted butter, and a glass of cold orange juice, then followed Squall to one of the tables across the room. They sat down across from one another and began to eat, but though the food was as good as it looked, the fruit filling Elle's mouth with its sweetness, it failed to lift her unease completely.

So what was it you were going to tell me? she asked.

Squall paused in the act of chewing and sighed. it's about Rinoa.

Oh? How are you two doing?

Alright, I suppose. She's taking her field exam today to be a SeeD. I can't share any details with you, since it's classified, but I'm a little worried about her.

Elle gave his hand a gentle squeeze. I'm sure she'll be fine, Squall. She fought at your side against Ultimecia, right? I don't think you have too much cause for concern.

I hope you're right, Sis, he replied. It's just that we had an argument before she left. We didn't really make up.

Is it something you can tell me?

Squall looked away, his expression growing distant again. I'd rather not.

I understand, and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just concerned, that's all.

It's okay, Squall reassured her, his countenance softening as he met her gaze. I'm still trying to get used to opening up to people again. So far, you and Rin are the only ones I can really talk with, but there are still some things I'd rather not speak of yet even to the two of you, if you can understand. They're just too difficult, right now.

Elle nodded. Of course. I didn't mean to pry.

It's okay, Sis He broke off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment in obvious pain and bringing his hands up to rub at his temples. 

Elle asked him in alarm, what's wrong?

My head. It's been hurting like hell ever since I woke up this morning

Have you taken anything for it?

No, not yet. Squall rubbed his forehead above the bridge of his nose with the first two fingers and thumb of his right hand. I was hoping it would go away, but it hasn't.

Maybe you should have Dr. Kadowaki take a look at it, Elle suggested.

I think I will in a little bit, Squall agreed, if it doesn't stop.

Is it the scar?

He nodded. It's been aching a lot lately for some reason. Maybe I just took a few too many hits in the Training Center.

Without quite knowing why, Ellone reached out and touched her fingertips lightly to the angry, livid slash that ran from Squall's forehead down across the bridge of his nose to just under his left eye. She felt in her blood the familiar tingling of her power, yet at the same time it was distinctly different, though she could not have said how.

Squall's face was a picture of confusion. Sis? What---

Ellone shushed her younger brother, her concentration solely on the scar. She ran her fingers lightly along it, tracing it, probing, but for what, she did not know. Pulled along by an incomprehensible yet undeniable sense of intuition, Ellone continued to search, her eyes fixed intently on the bright red gash that had become as much a part of her brother as his arm or hand.

_There._ Her fingers ceased their questing and fixed themselves in certain spots along the scar's length. It was there, she knew. She could almost _see_ the pain, not only the insistent throbbing inside her brother's head, but the pain of the scar itself, of the unhealed skin and tissue that not even junction magic could ever completely heal. The tingling in Ellone's blood intensified for a moment, and she felt a slight surge as she suddenly released her power. Yet what she released then was not the power she knew, not the burden she had carried for so long, had wished so many times that she could have been born without.

It was something different.

From her fingertips came a flash of pure white light that illuminated the scar on Squall's forehead and then faded with a small rush of wind. Ellone slowly pulled away, her hands beginning to tremble as she tried to understand what had just happened. As she looked back up at Squall, her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat.

the scar, it she breathed, hardly able to believe what she was seeing, it's gone

He stared at her as if he had never seen her before. 

Does your head still hurt?

Squall paused a moment, then reached up and tentatively felt his forehead, his fingers encountering smooth, unmarked skin where the scar had once been. no, it doesn't. What did you do, Sis? What just happened?

I don't know it was my power, but at the same time, it wasn't She averted her gaze, not wanting to meet those cold blue eyes that looked at her so strangely. it's been feeling different lately like it's changing somehow but I don't know how or why

The power she possessed, the burden she bore, was her ability to send a person's consciousness into the past, into a sort of dream where she and the person sent might see what had already happened through the eyes of a participant in those past events, be they twenty minutes or twenty years ago. Ellone had been hunted and sought after for most of her life because of her power, her curse, as she saw it.

Why didn't you tell me? Squall asked.

Ellone sighed bitterly. I thought I thought I was just imagining things.

he replied, you should have said something.

I'm sorry. I've just been distracted, lately. Those dreams I mentioned before

She shivered, suddenly afraid. Afraid of the nightmares, of the twisted, terrifying visions that still hung in her mind even now, of the chill, hollow voices that spoke to her in the dark. Afraid of herself, of the power that seemed to be somehow changing within her, expanding almost, growing into something she did not know or understand. _No that's not it it's not growing, it it's_

It was awakening.

I haven't told anyone else, she explained. I didn't want to worry anyone, but I guess it's too late for that now.

Elle felt a slight pressure on her hand and realized that Squall had placed his own over it. _Being with Rinoa must have rubbed off on him more than I realized._ A small, rueful smile worked its way onto Elle's lips at the thought. Tentatively, she brought her gaze back up to her brother, whom she now saw was looking at her with concern.

You know I'll always worry about you, Sis. It's just that I don't want to lose you again.

I understand, but you're going to have to let go of me someday, you know, Elle gently reminded him. You have your own life to live, too.

Now it was Squall who looked away, seeming to suddenly find keen interest in his plate, before gazing back up at Elle. I know. I just don't think you should go through this alone. Let us—let me—help you, Sis. You don't have to be by yourself anymore.

I'll be fine, Squall, but if it would make you feel better, I'll talk about this with Matron. She might be able to help me, if anyone can.

Squall nodded. Good. Don't wander too far off, though. Remember what happened in the Training Center? Quistis and I had to help you out.

Two years ago during the struggle with the future sorceress Ultimecia, Ellone had tried to reach Squall and the others aboard Balamb Garden. She had come in through the Training Center, not knowing at the time what it was used for, and encountered an angry, flying insect beast known as a granaldo. Fortunately, Squall and Quistis had arrived and disposed of the creature before it could hurt her.

I remember, Squall, she replied, grinning slightly. Did you really think I would forget being attacked by a five hundred pound bumblebee?

No, not really. But try to be careful, okay?

Elle nodded. I will. I think I'll visit Selphie later and see how she's doing with all the preparations for tomorrow night. It might help me cheer up and clear my head a little.

That might not be a bad idea, Sis. I'm sure she'd be glad to see you, and if I know Irvine, he'll probably be down there with her.

More people were beginning to filter into the cafeteria now, and the lines were already snaking their way almost to the entrance. Elle finished the last of her juice and disposed of her tray, then walked with Squall out into the Garden's main hall. Before long, they had reached the central elevator that connected Balamb Garden's four main floors.

Squall turned to her. I've got to get going, Sis. Duty calls. If you can call paperwork duty, that is. Did you know I actually have an office now? I never wanted a desk job. I almost wish we had some crisis on our hands, so I could be out fighting monsters instead of upstairs fighting boredom.

You know the saying, Squall, Elle teased. Be careful what you wish for you may just get it.

Rinoa told me the exact same thing the other day in almost exactly the same words. Saving the world once is enough, though. For me, anyway.

I'm sure. Will I see you later on?

Squall nodded. I'll stop by later after I let my students out of class.

You teach a class?

Gunblade fighting. It seems like everyone wants to learn how to use one nowadays. Even a few girls, too, if you can believe it.

Elle smiled. I bet they all want to be just like you, the famous commander and war hero.

Or maybe Seifer, Squall grunted. The sorceress' knight.

Little had been heard from Squall's longtime antagonist since the end of the war. Seifer and his posse, Fujin and Raijin, had gone into a self-imposed exile from Garden, living in Balamb and sometimes Fisherman's Horizon. The trio had been tried by a SeeD tribunal and acquitted of all charges due to the strong influence Sorceress Ultimecia had exerted over them in her attempts to use them for her own ends. Although Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin might all have been accepted back into the Garden, they had chosen, for their own reasons, to stay away.

I wouldn't count on it, Squall, Elle countered. You're the one they look up to, not him.

Squall sighed and shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Whatever. All that hero worship just gets on my nerves anyway.

The elevator chimed brightly as the door slid open, and Squall, after nodding to Elle, moved to enter. Halfway inside, however, he stopped and looked back at her, his expression more serious. Remember, Sis. Be careful, and let me know if anything else happens. I probably don't have to tell you this, but try not to use your power again until we can figure out what's happening to it.

I understand, Elle agreed.

Squall nodded wordlessly and the elevator door closed behind him. For a few long moments after he had gone, Elle remained where she was, seeing again in her mind the flash of light and Squall's unmarked forehead. The tingling in her blood was still there, as it always was, a subtle reminder that she was and always would be different from everyone else. 

A long, weary sigh escaped Elle's lips as she walked away..


	2. Chapter 2

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


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**CHAPTER 2**  


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Everywhere she looked, there were people. They scrambled hurriedly from one errand to another, crisscrossing the broad central courtyard of the rebuilt Trabia Garden, which rose above Ellone like a silent but beneficent giant. The flattened cylindrical structure was the smallest of the three Gardens that Cid and Edea Kramer had founded so many years ago.

It didn't take Ellone long to find the person she sought. Selphie Tilmitt, her flip of coppery hair starkly vivid in the gray afternoon light of the leaden, overcast sky, stood to the right of the circular stone fountain in the center of the courtyard. Dressed in a full SeeD instructor's uniform, Selphie was busily scribbling notes onto a clipboard as Elle walked up to her.

It looks like everything's coming together pretty well for tomorrow night, Elle greeted her, smiling a little. I guess I don't need to ask if you're excited.

The redheaded girl squealed excitedly. Hiya, Sis! Tomorrow night is gonna be so awesome! We're gonna pah-_tay!_

I can imagine. So, you're an instructor now, I hear?

Selphie nodded enthusiastically. Yep! About time, too! Quisty helped me get my instructor's license after she got hers reinstated. So now I'm teaching junior classmen all kinds of cool stuff about Garden and SeeD and all that.

How do you like it? Elle asked.

It's totally awesome! Maybe someday, I'll even have a fan club like Quisty does! Like the Sefies' or something, you know?

You've been teaching here, then, as well as helping with the reconstruction?

Selphie sighed, a little of her enthusiasm seeming to dwindle somehow. Yeah, that's what I've been doing since the war, but now that Trabia's rebuilt, I don't know if I wanna stay here, or or go back to Balamb. I know I could teach in either Garden, but I love both of em so much oh, I don't know what to do, Sis! I can't be in both places at once, but but I really, really wish I could

Elle patted the other girl's shoulder reassuringly. I'm sure you'll be able to figure something out, Selphie. I've never known you to let anything get you down for very long.

Thanks, Sis! Selphie exclaimed, her grin returning so swiftly that Elle wondered if it had ever left in the first place. I'll think of something, I just know it!

I don't doubt it, Elle replied, allowing herself a small smile at the other girl's enthusiasm.

Hey, why don't you let me show you around for a bit? I have to head over to the quad, anyway, so why don't you walk over there with me?

Elle nodded, grateful for the welcome distraction from her dark thoughts that Selphie so cheerfully provided. Nevertheless, the redheaded girl's exuberance couldn't push them away completely, and so Ellone's unease lingered, a weight in her mind and in her heart. She shivered, remembering how strangely Squall had looked at her when she had so inexplicably healed him. In that moment, her blood tingling intensely with a power she no longer knew or understood, Ellone had felt herself a stranger not only to Squall but also to herself.

A slight tug on her arm brought Elle from her thoughts as Selphie, her expression unusually solemn, beckoned her to follow. There's somethin' I wanna show you, Sis, before we go to the quad. It's over this way, kinda in the other direction, really, but it'll only take a minute or two.

The redheaded girl led Ellone down a paved concrete path that wound to the right of the Garden until it reached a broad, snowy clearing dotted here and there with a few tall evergreen trees that stood like mute sentries over the rows of gravestones that lined the area. Bouquets of flowers decorated most of the graves, and over one was draped an old leather jacket.

What is this place? Elle asked.

It's the Trabia Memorial, Selphie replied softly. Everyone who died in the missile attack is buried here. Before the reconstruction it was just a muddy field with a few old tree stumps, so when we began rebuilding, we planted new grass and put in the pines and firs to make it nicer for everyone who visited and so that the friends we lost wouldn't be forgotten.

I'm sure they would appreciate what you and the others have done, Selphie.

The other girl smiled sadly. Thanks. I used to know some of the people here, was friends with a bunch of em before they died. Y'know, it never really hit me until I came back here after the war that those buddies I lost were really and truly gone. I'm just glad Irvy was there with me to hold me together, cause it felt for a while like I was fallin' apart inside.

Elle gently laid a hand comfortingly on Selphie's shoulder. I know what that's like. While I was on the White SeeD ship for all those years, separated from all of you and from Uncle Laguna, from all the people I had ever loved, I felt much the same way.

There had been during those long years at sea many nights where Ellone had cried herself to sleep, her face buried in her pillows as tears had streamed unchecked down her face. Her exile had been of her own choice, however, for the protection of the loved ones she had left behind. She had long since lost track of the countless nights she had spent standing alone at the ship's rail, her nostrils filled with the strong scent of brine and her ears with the ceaseless, rhythmic lapping of the waves against the hull as she had stared silently out to sea.

In those long, lonely vigils under the starry skies, her heart aching terribly inside her despite the cheerful front that she had worn for the sake of the others aboard ship, Ellone had thought often of home, of Winhill and the orphanage, and of the life and family that had been taken from her. She had wished bitterly that things could have been different for her and for Squall and the others. In the midst of her sorrow, Ellone had resolved to someday make them different.

During the war, she had reached with her powers into the minds of Squall and his companions to try and change what had happened in the past, but without success. Yet the experience had not been completely fruitless, as through it Ellone had been able to see and remember how much she had been loved by those around her, by Raine and Uncle Laguna, by Cid and Edea and even Squall. With that realization, some of Ellone's bitterness had at last begun to fade.

It's a real mega bummer, isn't it? Selphie asked quietly, drawing Elle from her thoughts. But we both got over it, though.

Elle smiled a little and nodded her agreement as she and Selphie stood in silence for a minute out of respect for those whose graves lay before them. The two women then slowly walked back down the concrete path to the central courtyard, where the sounds of trickling water from the stone fountain mingled with the excited buzz of conversation as students and faculty alike scurried about in a state of nervous anticipation for tomorrow evening's events.

You know, I'm surprised Irvine isn't around, Elle remarked. He always did seem to like being with you.

Selphie grinned and nodded, her cheeks reddening slightly at the mention of the lanky, amorous young cowboy. He came up here to help me with the reconstruction after war, and um well, we've gotten together since then. I thought everyone knew by now.

I guess I've been a little out of touch, Elle mused, but I'm happy for you. I can't say it comes as any great surprise, though.

Nah, I guess not. I told him I wouldn't go out with him 'till he stopped lookin' at them naughty magazines he always used to collect. Poor guy was in agony for days, but he eventually did the right thing and got rid of 'em, actually burned 'em all right in front of me! Didn't take him long to kick that little habit, I can tell ya.

Good for you, Selphie! You know, you're really lucky to have someone, I mean

Hey, don't you worry, Sis, Selphie giggled, her green eyes dancing, I'm sure some cute guy's gonna come and sweep you right up off your feet! Just you wait and see!

Elle ran a hand self-consciously through her short brown hair. do you really think so?

I know so! He'll be tall, dark, and handsome, your very own knight in shining armor!

Sighing wistfully, Ellone couldn't suppress a slight blush of her own. She did want very much to have someone, a man with whom she could share her heart and her life, her hopes and her sorrows, her joys and her tears, her body and her soul. So many nights she had lain awake, wondering, dreaming, longing for someone to take away her loneliness, to love her and be loved by her. Except that no man, she knew, could or would ever love her that way. Her power, her curse, had seen to that.

Elle shook her head. I'd probably frighten him away because of well, you know

Though she was not a sorceress herself, Ellone knew she was feared as one because of her power. Very few people in her life had ever tried to see past her ability, to see her, to meet her. The person Ellone, the woman Ellone. The girl who loved curling up in her favorite chair with a good book, the girl who had once found a baby chocobo with a broken wing and nursed it back to health. She enjoyed looking up at the sky on a clear night and trying to count the stars, or finding shapes in the clouds on a sunny day while lying on her back in the grass and inhaling the sweet scents of wildflowers and greenery. Lounging dreamily in a hot bubble bath had become one of her most favorite pastimes, especially when she had one of her mushy romance novels to read while doing so.

Since the end of the war, Ellone had lived in Winhill, by herself, although Uncle Laguna had invited her more than once to stay in Esthar with him. Sometimes she visited, as she had been doing when he had asked her to take his place here in Trabia so he could finish handling the details of the negotiations with Headmaster Cid and the other officials. But she would never feel at home there. Too much had happened for that ever to occur, for it was by Esthar that she had been hunted and pursued her whole life. She had been a captive in that city when she was little, before Laguna had saved her, and she still shivered sometimes at the memories of that place and the things she had been forced to undergo, the experiments done to her as though she were no more than a lab rat.

There were times when she hated her ability, hated herself, because of the pain and loss she and others had suffered because of it. Her parents had been killed when she was only two years old because Esthar soldiers had arrived in Winhill to capture her for her power. Uncle Laguna had been unable to return to Winhill from Esthar after rescuing her from her captivity in Dr. Odine's laboratory and so had not been there with his wife Raine when she had died giving birth to their son, Squall. Because of Ellone's power, Dr. Odine had continued to search for her over the years, forcing her to leave the orphanage where she had lived with Squall and the others. Her sudden, reluctant departure had nearly destroyed her brother, with whom she had formed a close bond in those days.

It was her own power that had nearly allowed Sorceress Ultimecia to destroy the world and rule over all of time and space, a painful failure for which Ellone continued to blame herself. Ultimecia had been a sorceress from the distant future who through a machine constructed by Dr. Odine to emulate Ellone's ability had projected herself back in time to the present day and into the consciousness of Edea. Through Matron, the wicked future sorceress had attempted to exterminate all of SeeD in her quest to achieve time compression, which would have given her mastery over the very flow of time itself.

And Ellone's power had made it possible.

Any guy who doesn't want you because of _that_ is crazy and doesn't deserve you, Selphie stated emphatically, but I just know you'll meet that special guy one day that'll love ya no matter what!

Thanks, Selphie. I I hope you're right.

The redheaded girl grinned. I am right, Sis! Trust me!

Elle nodded and followed Selphie across the courtyard and along another path that led around the other side of the Garden's exterior. As the two women walked, Selphie chatting animatedly about one thing or another, Elle's thoughts wandered back to her dark dreams and she shivered in spite of the thick winter coat she had borrowed earlier from Selphie.

A soft warbling sound brought Elle back to the present, and she looked up to see a yellow, feathered face staring back at her from inside a small corral. The chocobo's large eyes held hers for a moment, and from its broad beak issued another cheerful chirp. Elle reached over the fence and lightly scratched behind the large bird's ear, smiling fondly as she did so.

I didn't know you kept chocobos here, she asked Selphie, who had come to a stop beside her. I thought Garden used cars to get around.

Selphie shrugged. We caught and tamed a few after the war 'cause for a while our main road was all busted up and there aren't really many other roads up here to use. Besides, the chocobos can handle the terrain a lot better. The ground looks all flat when you're up flyin' overhead, but there's actually a lot of hills and drops and ridges and stuff, especially as ya go closer to the mountains.

do you think I can ride one? Elle asked, I've had a lot on my mind lately, and riding helps me clear my head sometimes.

Selphie thought a moment, and then grinned widely. Sure! I'll help ya get all set up. You can ride Starlight, there, if you want. She's pretty well trained.

Elle smiled at the bird again and nodded. I think I will.

Between the two of them, Ellone and Selphie managed to saddle Starlight and lead her out of the paddock and down a side path that led to a small gate in the high outer wall of the Garden complex. While Selphie unlocked and opened the gate, Elle swung herself into the saddle and fed the chocobo a few ghysal greens she had brought with her from the stable.

I won't be gone too long, I don't think, Elle mused, Just a few hours, if anyone asks.

Okay then! Have fun! I'd go with you, but I've still got lots of stuff to take care of over in the quad for tomorrow night.

Elle nodded as she walked Starlight through the gate. Just on the other side, she turned in the saddle to see Selphie waving cheerfully at her and smiling brightly. Elle returned the wave, then faced forward again as Selphie closed and locked the gate behind her. The clang of the lock echoed uneasily in Ellone's mind as she let Starlight trot briskly across the snow.

* * *

Oh, damn

Ellone sighed wearily. All around her, snow drifted down in a blinding sheen of white flurries that filled Starlight's tracks almost as quickly as the large bird made them. The storm had come seemingly from nowhere after Elle had been riding for a few hours, and though she looked nervously all around her, she could see no sign of either Trabia Garden or Balamb Garden. They might be and likely were out there, she knew, but with her visibility so limited by the falling snow, she had no idea where to find them.

The wind swirled and howled around her as she kept Starlight at a steady walk across the uneven ground. Elle had long since pulled up the hood of her coat, but even so the cold still stung at the tips of her ears as her breath steamed in the frigid air. She shivered a little as she clutched the reins, her fingers stiff with cold in spite of her woolen gloves.

As she rode, Elle wondered if she might not be going in circles, but she couldn't be certain. She silently berated herself for not being more prepared, for not heeding Squall's warning not to stray too far. If she didn't find her way back to Garden before nightfall—which wasn't all that far off, now that she thought about it—Elle knew she would be in serious trouble. The temperatures out here often plummeted drastically after dark to well below freezing.

A weight began to settle within Ellone's mind as she plodded on across the snow-covered landscape. At first, she thought it just another effect of the cold, but then a familiar, unsettling chill began to wrap itself around her heart with icy tendrils. She shuddered and began to tremble as fragments from her nightmares rose up in her mind.

_The skies burn. Darkness swallows all. The Hand is reaching._

Elle's fingers tightened their grip on the reins as she tried to steady herself in the saddle. The chill, inhuman voices from her dreams echoed in her mind, and Ellone began to wonder if she were in fact going quite mad. As she sought to dispel that thought, a rather unsettling sensation began to worm its way into her gut. She couldn't quite put a finger on exactly what it was at first, but then with a shiver she suddenly understood all too well.

She was being watched.

Nervously, Elle looked around her, realizing for the first time that the snowstorm had slackened considerably and that she could actually see for some distance ahead now, although twilight was fast approaching. She saw nothing in the gathering gloom, however, except rugged hillsides and the occasional bits of stiff grass that poked stubbornly through the snow.

Swallowing her fear, Elle rode on in the direction she thought, she hoped, would lead her back to Garden. The sensation of unseen eyes following her every move spurred Ellone to bring Starlight into a trot as she continued to look nervously about her. Nothing revealed itself to her, yet the feeling that she was not alone out here, that something was following her, seemed to grow even stronger as she rode onward across the snow.

Night was falling fast. Ellone drew her coat tighter around her as the cold, both within and without, grew deeper and more insistent. Beneath her, Starlight's steps grew a little less certain as the bird grew fatigued. Though Elle had kept her mount at an easy pace the entire afternoon, she could feel Starlight's strength beginning to ebb as evening closed in. 

So absorbed was Ellone in her thoughts that she almost missed seeing on a nearby ridge the dark, cloaked figure standing silhouetted by the day's last waning light. She cautiously slowed her mount, hoping the stranger above her was Squall or someone else from Garden out looking for her as she knew they must almost certainly be doing by now.

The chill in her heart, however, dispelled that idea almost immediately.

Starlight didn't need to be told twice to increase her speed as Ellone hurried away from the mysterious figure. More than once she looked back over her shoulder, sensing the stranger's feral, unseen gaze upon her, but each time she saw nothing. The wind seemed to whisper furtively around her, teasing her almost, mimicking the icy, hollow voices that whispered softly, maddeningly, through her mind in words she did not know, was not sure she wanted to know.

Ellone looked behind her again, and her heart jumped in her throat when she saw the stranger again, closer this time. It was following her, though in the near darkness Ellone couldn't see quite how at first. Then she heard the faint rustle of wings and with a shudder realized for the first time that her pursuer might not actually be human. Trying to ignore the cold aching in her bones, she faced forward again and pushed her chocobo to go faster, determined to outrun whatever was hunting her. She looked back once more, but the dark figure was nowhere to be seen.

Turning forward in the saddle, Ellone shrieked in terror.

In front of her rose the hunter, a dark, menacing presence cloaked and hooded as much in the gloom and shadows as in its voluminous black robes. Starlight reared, eyes wide as she let out a startled cry, and before Ellone could react, the bird bolted madly away at a dead run. She held on tightly as best she could, pulling at the reins and trying not to fall off. Trembling with fright, she felt the hunter's insidious presence following her relentlessly across the snowy hills.

Suddenly she was airborne, hurtling through empty space as Starlight tripped and lost her footing over the edge of a sudden drop. Ellone had time for a single startled cry before she slammed hard against the descending slope, and the sky and ground spun crazily as she tumbled and bounced painfully down the broken hillside. A particularly hard impact, accompanied by a sickening crack as her right arm broke, briefly sent her flying again before she finally smashed through the thick ice of a frozen lake that lay at the base of the hill.

Every part of her was pain. Her arm, her ribs, everything. The insistent throbbing in her left ankle told her clearly that she must have twisted it in the fall. Though every movement was agony, she fought and clawed her way desperately toward the surface. Her lungs burned fiercely as her the air within them rapidly diminished. In spite of her efforts, however, she was too far away. As her strength slackened, her struggling began to slow.

In the frigid waters of the lake, the cold consumed her utterly. It would be so easy to let go, to drift away into endless slumber here beneath the ice. Why struggle so? The frigid waters embraced her, numbing her sluggish thoughts. Ellone's eyelids grew heavy, so heavy that it was all she could do to keep them from sliding shut. Even the pain of her wounded body was beginning to fade now as she began to lose feeling in her arms and legs.

_It isn't your time yet._

Another whisper in her mind, yet not dark like the others. A feminine voice, soft, melodious, with just a touch of girlishness. She knew that voice, had heard it before somewhere in the depths of her memory, yet neither name nor face could she put to it. Was this what it was like to die? Would other memories, known and unknown, float to the surface of her waning consciousness before she expired?

_Maybe it's best this way,_ she thought. _Everyone would be safer if I were gone_

_Didn't you hear me? It isn't your time yet. Now get up!_

Sluggishly, she shook her head. _No don't want to_

_That doesn't matter. What matters is that you are needed._

_I'm needed? _A spark of life began to slowly ignite within her breast.

_Far more than you know. But you have to hurry. Use your power and wake up!_

Ellone's eyes flew open as the voice's last command echoed faintly in her mind. Struggling weakly, she began to pull herself bit by bit towards the glittering surface of the water. The tingling in her blood intensified as her power surged, and though her lungs seemed ready to explode at any moment the little air within them seemed not to diminish at all. A soft sheen of white light encased her body, bringing a little warmth and feeling back into her extremities.

With a great gasp of the chill night air, Ellone at last breached the surface. Clinging to the ragged edge of the hole in the ice, she drew in great deep breaths of air and thought she had never tasted anything so sweet in her entire life. As the white aura of her power began to recede, she pulled herself shivering out of the water and lay tiredly on the frozen surface of the lake as all the pain she had nearly forgotten while submerged in the frigid water began to return.

The frigid, icy wind bit mercilessly at Ellone as she realized for the first time that she had somehow lost her coat in the fall. Shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering with the cold, she wondered if she had merely exchanged one form of death for another. She would never find shelter in time, and what little control she had possessed over her changing power while submerged in the freezing water had somehow slipped away again as she had pulled herself tiredly out onto the ice. Her dark pursuer wouldn't even have to bother killing her but could just let the cold do it instead.

At that last thought, Ellone looked back up the hillside, past where Starlight lay twitching feebly in a crumpled heap, to the top of rise. Standing there was the hunter, cloaked in shadow and hooded in gloom. Even from where she lay, Ellone could feel its malignant gaze upon her. A rasp of metal filled the air as the mysterious figure drew two long, slightly curved swords from scabbards hidden somewhere within its robes and began to move slowly and deliberately forward.

It was coming. For her.

Ellone could only watch in terror as with blinding, inhuman speed the hunter sliced its way through the fallen chocobo blocking its path. Blood and gore spattered grotesquely across the snow, yellow feathers suddenly filling the air as Starlight managed to give out one startled squawk that was cut off rather abruptly in a sudden, vicious blur of steel.

Her eyes wide, Ellone struggled desperately to crawl away across the ice as the hunter continued to advance relentlessly towards her. As it neared, she saw within the depths of its hood a stainless steel mask that bore no expression at all, that was utterly neutral. Somehow, this emptiness, this total lack of any visible emotion whatsoever, frightened Ellone even more than the brutal display of unholy strength and power she had just witnessed.

Yet what terrified her most were its eyes. Or rather, the dark, empty pits of blackness where its eyes should have been. They caught her and held her within their chill, dead gaze, seeming to stare into and shrivel her very soul so that it seemed she could hardly breathe. What little strength remained to her crumbled almost instantly to dust in the sight of those eyeless sockets that seemed to her like windows into utter nothingness. It was like staring into her own open grave.

Steel flashed, and she raised her good arm in a feeble attempt at defense. Lines of fire seemed to burn across her skin as the hunter savagely began to slash at her, and she screamed. Now it was her own blood that stained the snow in little crimson rivulets. She was going to die, she was dying already. A blade flashed above her, descending rapidly toward her neck.

The blow never landed.

Ellone's power suddenly seemed to explode within her, a surge so strong it was almost violent. Her body trembled and shook as white light seemed to engulf her in a ring of blazing fire that hurled the hunter back across the snow. Within the depths of the light, the tingling in Ellone's blood had become a raging torrent that seemed to burn fiercely within her veins.

Her surroundings melted away, and she knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 3**  


* * *

  


  
Squall paced restlessly on the Ragnarok's bridge, his boots thudding briskly on the deck as the steady thrumming of the ship's engines filled his ears. Outside the cockpit, the uneven, whitish-gray landscape of the Trabia snowfields slid endlessly past as the ship flew low underneath the thick blanket of clouds that hung in the early morning sky like long rolls of cotton.

No one on the bridge spoke, no one seemed to _want_ to speak. Not that Squall blamed any of them, really. The tension hanging in the air was almost palpable, so thick that Squall thought he could have cut through it with his gunblade had he wanted to. He had experienced such tension more than once during the war with Ultimecia, but this time it was different.

Sis was gone.

Turning forward again in the midst of his pacing, Squall grimaced and sighed in frustration. Ellone had been in danger before, being so highly sought after as she was by Ultimecia before the future sorceress's defeat, but in those instances, Squall had known where to find her and who or what was threatening her. Now, however, he knew neither, only that she was lost out here in the snow somewhere. He wouldn't allow himself to think that he might already be too late. She was alive. She _had_ to be.

Squall looked up from his thoughts and glanced tersely around the bridge. To his left, Kiros manned the navigation console. The slim, dark-skinned man gazed intently at the computer readouts, searching for any possible detection of human lifesigns. Just in front of the console, the silent giant known as Ward stared grimly out the portside cockpit window at the rugged, unfolding landscape of snow, ice, and rock in hopes of seeing anything out of the ordinary. On the starboard side, Quistis brushed a few stray strands of blond hair from her eyes as she kept watch with Zell, who with his clenched fists and loosely bent knees seemed to Squall like a tightly coiled spring ready to pounce.

Yo, Squall! he exclaimed suddenly, leaning intently toward the glass as he did so, I think I see something! It looks kinda weird

At Zell's pronouncement, Squall abruptly halted his pacing and turned to the front, where Selphie was skillfully flying the ship as Irvine looked on from the copilot's chair next to her. Selphie, see if you can bring us around for a closer look.

Okay, just a sec!

The deck tilted slightly under Squall's booted feet as the Ragnarok banked sharply to the right. When the ship completed its turn and began to descend, Squall quickly moved to join Zell and Quistis on the starboard side, gazing intently out the cockpit window to try and see whatever it was the energetic blond man had spoken of.

He almost wished he hadn't.

Zell let out a low whistle. Damn, that's a _lotta_ blood

Spattered across the snow-dusted rocks of a broken hillside were large crimson smears of what could only be blood, though of what unfortunate being Squall could not immediately tell, so ripped apart were the remains. A knot of fear began to settle uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach as he continued to stare silently at the bloodstained slope. It couldn't be her. It couldn't be. It wasn't her. Just some unfortunate animal brutally slain by a wild predator, that's all.

Squall was lying to himself, and he knew it. Something had happened to Ellone, something terrible. He remembered vividly his last conversation with her yesterday morning, and the fear she had tried unsuccessfully to hide from him. It had shown itself in her eyes clearly enough, though. Never in his life had Squall seen her more frightened, more unsure of herself.

Looks like chocobo feathers Quistis murmured.

Indeed, as Squall continued to stare at the mangled remains, he could see that the blond instructor was right. Bright yellow feathers, many spattered with blood, lay scattered haphazardly amidst the bloodstained snow. Some of them tumbled about end over end down the slope, no doubt caught helplessly in the early morning wind. The sight chilled Squall, and the knot in his stomach tightened almost painfully.

Quistis looked tentatively at him, as if she didn't want to voice what everyone on the bridge was almost certainly thinking at that moment. Ellone was riding a chocobo, wasn't she?

With a grim sigh, Squall nodded. Early yesterday evening, he had stopped by Ellone's guest quarters as he had told her he would, but she hadn't been there. Remembering that she had visited with Selphie that morning, Squall had found the redheaded girl with little trouble and learned that Ellone had gone riding some time ago but had not yet returned. With worry gnawing relentlessly at him, he had spent several hours with his friends and other SeeDs on chocobos searching the snowfields for her. They had found nothing, though, and it had been with great reluctance that he had at last called it off for the night. He would have continued to search for her alone if need be, but the deepening cold and the black, lightless skies had made that impossible.

Selphie, set us down as close to that spot as you can, he ordered. I want to take a closer look.

She seemed not to hear him at first, her face gone uncharacteristically pale. D-Did you say chocobo feathers? A-And blood

Irvine gripped her shoulder firmly. Hey, it ain't your fault, Sefie, so don't worry about it, okay?

A-Alright. Sis is fine, though, isn't she? She's okay, right?

We won't know until we get down there, Squall replied pointedly.

Selphie gulped, nodded, and turned quickly back to the flight controls. Squall could see that her hands weren't entirely steady as she worked, but she managed to get the job done despite her trembling fingers. The ship began to descend further, and in a short time, there was a muffled thump from below as Selphie activated the landing gear.

Kiros, are you getting anything? Squall asked.

The dark-skinned man looked up from his console and shook his head. Nothing, Squall. If Ellone's still alive, I can't find her. There isn't anything else around here either except for what I'm guessing are a few scavengers picking at whatever's left of the chocobo.

She's alive, Squall insisted, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Kiros nodded. Let's hope so.

A slight bump from below signaled that the ship had at last set down. While Selphie busied herself shutting down the engines, Squall adjusted the thick coat he wore over the rest of his clothes. Like the others, he had come out here dressed for the cold, though only now was he actually shrugging on the thick black coat that he had draped earlier over the chair at the starboard weapons console. He carefully adjusted his belt and loosened his gunblade from its harness before turning to face the rest of his crew. Alright, everyone, let's go out there and see what's what.

Outside, the wind bit mercilessly at his ears and cheeks, playfully tossing around loose strands of his brown hair as the cold morning air worked its way into his fingers despite his thick leather gloves. Squall had never particularly liked the cold, never been able to see how people could stand to live in a place like this, where such brutal weather was a fact of life. Having spent most of his days on the sunny and pleasant island of Balamb farther south, where for most of the year temperatures seldom fell below seventy degrees, he had never experienced real cold until first coming up here to Trabia during the war. He had decided almost immediately that he hated it.

Brushing his thoughts aside, Squall carefully made his way down the hillside toward the remains of the chocobo, the others following cautiously after him. The slope wasn't very steep, but choked with ragged clumps of rock and slick with ice that made footing treacherous at times. Squall descended slowly, picking his way a step at a time until he was within a just few yards of the dead chocobo's remains.

Squall nearly gagged at the stench that rose up to his nostrils, one of death and the coppery tang of drying blood. His gaze rooted on the mangled carcass, he saw for the first time how viciously the bird had been killed. Blood and entrails lay scattered about the rocks and snow as little flurries of yellow feathers tumbled aimlessly about, and the splintered remnants of severed limbs lay brokenly like a jumble of discarded sticks and leaves. A few small white-furred wolves slunk sullenly away, disrupted from their feasting by the arrival of Squall and his companions.

Oh, _man_ that stinks! Zell exclaimed vehemently, waving his hand vigorously in front of his nose as he came near with the others close behind. Squall glanced at him but said nothing, hardly able to disagree with his friend's assessment. He looked back up the hill to see that Selphie was lagging behind, trying to stay as far from the remains as possible, when her green eyes widened in dismay as they stared past him at the dead chocobo.

Still strapped somehow on what was left of the bird's torso was a slashed and battered saddle.

The sight chilled Squall's blood instantly. Etched into the stiff brown leather was the SeeD insignia overlaid with Trabia Garden's own emblem. There could be no doubt now that this was the same chocobo that Ellone had ridden out on yesterday across the snowfields. Despite his firm belief that she was alive, a shudder worked its way down Squall's spine as he stared grimly at the remains and wondered what had become of her, cold and alone out here in the snow somewhere.

_I'll find you, Sis. I'm coming. Just hold on._

What do you think could have done this? Irvine asked.

I don't know, Squall replied, but it's not something we want to meet. In any case, what's important right now is that we find Ellone. We can figure out the rest of this later.

The sharpshooter nodded in understanding and stepped closer to Selphie, whose normally buoyant spirit seemed strangely absent today, not that Squall didn't think she deserved every bit of guilt she was undoubtedly heaping upon herself. It was her fault, after all, that Ellone was lost and in danger out here. Selphie was the one who had let her go riding yesterday in the first place. Squall made a mental note to talk to her about that later.

Quistis brushed unexpectedly past him then, her eyes intent on something further down the slope. What's that down there?

Following her gaze to the base of the hill, Squall saw what appeared to be gaping hole in the ground several yards out from the slope. Picking his way closer, carefully skirting the bloody patches of snow as he did so, he was able to see that the ground at the bottom of the hill was actually a thick layer of ice broken only by the large hole which Quistis was now approaching. Squall was about to join her when Zell gave a shout from behind.

In his hands was a thick winter coat crusted with snow and torn in more than a few places. Squall swallowed heavily as he recognized it. Ellone had been wearing that same coat yesterday morning when she had eaten breakfast with him before visiting with Selphie later that day and going on her doomed ride across the snowfields.

Dude, I nearly tripped over it trying to follow you guys down, Zell explained. It was all tangled in the snow and stuff.

Squall swore softly. Ellone's got even less time than we thought if she doesn't have any protection against the cold. Alright, people, let's move. Spread out and see what you can find. She's got to be around here somewhere. Selphie, go back up to the ship and do a long range scan of the area and see if anything comes up.

The others nodded their assent and began moving off in different directions across the surface of the frozen lake as Squall knelt next to Quistis in front of the ragged hole in the ice. Squall peered intently into the water, searching for any sign of Ellone, but found nothing. Bracing himself against the cold, he plunged his arm into the water and reached blindly for something, anything that might tell him where his sister was and what had happened to her.

Quistis asked.

Squall shook his head and withdrew his arm. His dripping fingers, though gloved, felt as though they were frozen solid, and he tried to rub some warmth back into them with his other hand. She must have fallen in when her chocobo went down, but—

He stopped suddenly, his eyes falling on a flash of green in a trampled and bloodied patch of snow on the far side of the hole. Circling around the water's edge, he bent and grasped the half-buried object, feeling in his hands the familiar textures of fabric, of silk. Pulling it free of the snow, he stared at the long, trailing garment for several long moments, his heart seeming to stop in his chest.

In his hand was Ellone's green shawl, stained with blood.

he whispered. Why hadn't she listened to him? He had told her to be careful, to not wander off too far. What could she have been thinking? Squall slowly brought his free hand up to the smooth, unmarked skin of his forehead, remembering how Ellone's power had so inexplicably healed it. She had said that her power was changing, but Squall knew that there was much more going on than she had told him. He had seen it in her eyes that morning, in the slight trembling of her fingers and the uneasy tremor in her voice. Thinking about it now, Squall began to understand why she might have ridden out here to seek solace and solitude.

The sound of running footsteps crunching through the snow brought Squall abruptly from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Selphie jogging toward him from the direction of the ship. When she reached him, she stopped for a second, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath, before speaking. Squall! Headmaster Cid's on the comm and he says it's urgent!

Squall sighed. He didn't need this, not now. He had to find Ellone! Alright, get everyone together and meet us back at the ship.

Gotcha! We'll be up there before ya know it! Selphie nodded and sped off, hurrying across the snow to find the others.

Ten minutes later, everyone was gathered once again on the Ragnarok's bridge, where Squall sat in the pilot's seat and quickly flipped a switch on the communications panel in front of him. Squall here, sir. What's the situation?

Cid's voice crackled forth from the speakers. Something's come up, Squall. I can't tell you anything right now because this is an unsecured channel, but you must return to the Garden immediately and report to my office as soon as you get back.

Sir, we've found Ellone's chocobo, or what was left of it. Elle was here, I'm sure of it. Her shawl and coat were both lying in the snow, but we haven't been able to find her yet.

Send me the coordinates and I'll have search parties sent out to continue looking for her. I'm afraid I can't let you stay out there, Squall. I need you and the others elsewhere.

Squall leaned forward in the seat. This couldn't be happening, not now! I can't just leave her! She's hurt and freezing out there somewhere! I have to find her!

Cid replied sternly, This matter is not open to debate. Send the coordinates and return to Garden. That's an order!

Understood, sir transmitting now. Squall sighed bitterly as he manipulated the controls on the communications panel. This had better be good. He hated abandoning Ellone, leaving her out here by herself and not knowing where she was or what had become of her, but Headmaster Cid had left him with no other choice. Squall only hoped he didn't live to regret it.

* * *

__

Squall couldn't believe what he was hearing. Or the living hell this day was fast becoming. Could anything else possibly go wrong today? He clenched his gloved fists tightly at his sides in frustration as he stood tensely in Headmaster Cid's refurbished office on Balamb Garden's third floor listening to the other man inform him of the situation at hand.

You heard me, Squall. We lost contact with our field exam team in Galbadia not long ago. There was a short, garbled transmission from Xu at approximately 07:44 hours but we've been unable to raise her or anyone else over there since then.

What happened over there, sir? Where's Rinoa?

Cid sighed. I wish I knew. Here, let me play the transmission for you. I'm afraid it isn't pleasant listening, however.

That proved to be a gross understatement, as Squall soon found out.

The headmaster, a bespeckled, middle-aged man wearing a burgundy vest over his crisp white oxford shirt and black slacks, turned to the intercom panel set in the wall near his desk and paged the bridge. Nida, bring up Xu's transmission and patch it through to my office immediately.

Yes, sir. Playing it now.

From the overhead speakers came a disjointed jumble of crackling static through which Squall could faintly hear Xu's voice struggling to be heard. The raw edge of fear evident in her voice bothered him more than a little. Having worked with her often since becoming Commander of Balamb Garden, Squall knew Xu to be a competent and professional SeeD officer seldom rattled by anything. As her voice came through more strongly now despite being interrupted at times by frequent bursts of static, however, he could clearly discern the rising fear she fought to keep in check.

Garden—you copy? This is Xu! Repeat, this—Xu! We are under attack! I—again, we—under attack! We—into a trap! The radicals—control of Dollet! We—ambushed in—comm tower! There—heavy casualties, and our gunships—been destroyed! Requesting immediate assistance! Repeat, I am reque—ediate assist—

The message broke off in large crackles of static before managing to come back amidst rapid bursts of weapons fire, the groans and cries of the wounded and dying, and a series of muffled explosions. —trying to hold them off, but—keep coming! Magic ineffective! GF's not responding! The radicals—taken Rinoa! We're trapped—comm tower!

Another burst of static obscured much of the message before the last piece came through. It was quieter now, save for Xu's ragged breathing and her footsteps echoing unevenly as she walked. Squall figured grimly that at this point she must have been wounded. He could almost hear her grimacing against the pain of the injuries she had no doubt sustained. Her fear was more evident here, less controlled than before. It didn't sound like there were very many others alive with her.

The radicals—breaking off—attack why? I think—know something in—tower with us, keeping in—shadows. Not human, but not—known monster, either It—killing us, one by one, those—who are left! Saw it—second when—killed Cadet Myers. It—too fast! Get us out of here! Hurry! We—running out of time! I—

Suddenly through the speakers came a bloodcurdling scream that Squall instantly recognized as Xu's own before it was abruptly cut off. Long seconds of static filled the air before the transmission finally, mercifully ended. Squall kept his fists tightly clenched to keep them from trembling, and he didn't need to look at his friends' faces around him to know that theirs were as pale as his own.

Cid sighed and met Squall's grim stare. As you know, Squall, the original mission for the field exam was to infiltrate and capture the Dollet communications tower from a radical faction of Galbadian insurgents. They aren't too happy with the provisional government we helped set up over there after the war, and they've also dedicated themselves to the extermination of all sorceresses, which would explain why they took Rinoa.

Squall breathed.

You are to go in, get our people out, and if you can, try to figure out exactly what is happening. You will be joined in Dollet by several Garden personnel who will assist you in this mission to the best of their ability. Is that understood?

Yes, sir. You'll inform me if the search teams find Ellone?

Normally, I would, Cid replied grimly, but due to the nature of this mission there is to be complete radio silence once you enter Dollet. We have no way of knowing exactly what's going on over there or who may be trying to listen in on our communications. I'll try and keep the search teams going for as long as I can, but

But what? Squall's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Cid looked at him sympathetically. Squall, Ellone's been out there exposed to the cold and sub-zero temperatures for over twelve hours now. I want her to be alive as much as you do, but I think I think the best we can hope for now is that is that we find her body intact. I've spoken with Dr. Kadowaki, and she doesn't believe that anyone could survive out there in that cold unprotected for this long. I'm sorry, Squall. I really am

No! She's alive, dammit! I'm not going to give up on her!

Cid's response was uncharacteristically sharp. You have a rescue mission to undertake, Commander, and I don't think you want to lose Rinoa any more than you want to lose Ellone. You are a SeeD officer, and I expect you to perform your duties exactly as you have been trained to do, without letting your emotions get in the way of your better judgment. Have I made myself clear?

Squall sighed glumly. Yes, sir.

Ward and I will stay with the search teams, Squall, Kiros said, his dark features set. If she's out there, we'll find her. Laguna's on his way here, too, and if I know him at all, he won't stop looking for her until he finds her no matter what anyone says. We've saved her before, you know, and we can do it again if we have to.

let's get going, then.

As he followed the others out of Cid's office, Squall wanted to scream. The two women he cared about the most were both in grave danger, and to save one he had to abandon the other. Kiros and the others would do everything in their power to find Ellone, but the very fact that Squall had to leave her, that he couldn't stay and look for her himself when he knew she was alive out there somewhere, alive and probably badly hurt, gnawed relentlessly at him and threatened to drive him mad.

A hand lightly touching his arm brought him from his dark thoughts, and he looked up to see that Selphie had slowed her pace until he had caught up to her. As the others filed into the central elevator, she brought Squall to a stop just a little ways from the end of the short hallway that led back to the bridge and to his and Cid's offices.

U-Um, Squall? I need to talk with you

About what? Squall snapped.

Selphie flinched visibly, but went on. A-About Ellone 

What about her?

I just I just wanted to say that I I'm so sorry about about what happened. I didn't mean for her to be hurt. It's my fault Ellone's probably dead

Squall exploded. Is that all you can say? Sorry'? What good does that do now? You're damn right it's your fault! How could you let her go out alone like that without any way of calling for help? How could you be so brainless?

I Selphie stammered, her eyes rimmed with unshed tears. Finally, she turned and ran toward the elevator, which chimed open almost immediately to reveal Irvine's tall form. The lanky cowboy stepped into the hall as Selphie brushed hurriedly past him, her chest hitching uncontrollably as she tried to choke back a sob. Irvine, seething now, turned to Squall with a dark look on his face.

What the hell is the matter with you, Squall? I know you're upset, man—we all are—but don't go taking it out on my girl!

She deserves it, Squall muttered.

The hell she does! Irvine pointed a finger at him. You hurt her again and I'll hurt you, got it?

Squall shouldered his way angrily past Irvine. Out of my way!

The elevator had already closed behind Selphie and descended again by the time Squall got to it, so he slapped his palm hard against the button next to the door and waited for it to come back in a few moments. Crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning wearily against the wall, he sighed bitterly. What else could possibly go wrong today?

He hoped he wouldn't find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 4**  


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The fire roared and crackled in the stone hearth, tongues of flame eating hungrily at the wood and lending a sense of warmth and coziness to the large living room. Pale golden streamers of late afternoon sunlight spilled across the carpet from outside the windows, where beyond the front porch a light dusting of snow drifted lazily down from the sullen gray skies. Jagged shards of ice hung down in rows from the eaves of the house like a malboro's needlelike teeth, and it was from sights such as these that the village had taken its name long ago.

Tifa Strife turned from her contemplation of the wintry world outside her living room window and back to the friends and companions that sat gathered together for one of the few times since the Meteor crisis four years ago. With the end of their grand adventure, Tifa and her friends had begun to drift apart and go their separate ways. Although she kept in contact with them as much as possible, with all of their different jobs and responsibilities it was difficult for her to see her old friends very often anymore.

Three years had passed since she and Cloud had left Kalm to get away from all the media attention and hero worship and to find someplace quiet where they could start their lives over together free from the pain of their shared past. The quaint little town of Icicle Inn, with its snowy, tree-lined lanes and sturdy brick homes and shops, held no dark memories to haunt Tifa and her husband, no old ghosts to remind them of days lost and gone.

Tifa and Cloud had bought Icicle Lodge, one of the town's larger inns, and had since expanded it to accommodate the increased numbers of tourists and travelers that had emerged in the wake of the Meteor incident. For the most part, Tifa ran the inn, though Cloud helped as well sometimes when he wasn't out on his daily patrols keeping monsters away from town. The young couple's own modest home was next door to their prosperous establishment, although Tifa sometimes felt dryly that she seemed to live more at the inn than she did in her own house.

Brushing aside a few errant strands of long, raven-dark hair from her face, Tifa roused herself from her thoughts and carefully adjusted her position a bit on the sofa so that her lower back didn't ache quite so much from trying to balance the steadily growing bulge in her belly. It seemed to Tifa as though her rapidly swelling abdomen was threatening to snap the buttons of her jeans every time she turned around. She was a little over six months pregnant with her first child and feeling every bit of it as she returned her attention back to the task at hand.

On the coffee table in front of her sat a wide assortment of packages of all shapes and sizes, boxes wrapped in pastel-colored papers of pink and blue and white in a myriad of patterns and designs. Some of the gifts, bundles of baby clothes and toys and other such items, already lay open and unwrapped beside their as yet untouched counterparts.

To her left sat her husband, clad in a dark blue turtleneck shirt and dark pants. He always seemed to wear blue or black these days, not that Tifa really minded all that much. She had always thought those colors looked good on him, especially since he had finally let her bring his unruly blond hair under some sort of control. Though still as spiky as always, it no longer seemed to Tifa like a wild thing with a life of its own.

Letting go of her husband's hand, Tifa pursed her lips in thought and let her gaze wander over the presents on the coffee table. So far, among the various baby clothes and nursery decorations, she had received a cute stuffed moogle from Reeve, a mobile of the sun and planets from Red, and upstairs was a new crib that Barret and Cloud had finished putting together for her this morning.

From across the table, Cid grunted, rose with a grin from the easy chair he'd been lounging in near the fire and handed Tifa a clumsily wrapped box tied with blue ribbon and a slightly lopsided bow. Here, Tif. Your kid'll get a kick out of it, I'm sure.

Tifa smiled as she began to unwrap the gift. Thanks, Cid. I hope you're right.

The present turned out to be a toy airplane made of brightly colored plastic. All the parts were overly large, big enough so that the baby wouldn't accidentally swallow one, and colored in cheerful shades of red and blue and yellow. The propeller even spun when Tifa tapped it with her finger.

Oh, Cloud, look! Tifa grinned and showed him the plane.

he replied with a slight chuckle, but the baby oughta like it. As long as it's bright and plastic, they like just about anything, don't they?

Tifa nodded and laughed. Just about.

It's quite safe for the baby to play with, Shera reassured her. 

Cid's wife sat near him at the end of the smaller sofa next to Elmyra and Barret on the other side of the coffee table. Tifa smiled, still amused at how long it had taken Cid to actually admit to Shera how he felt about her. They'd only just married a month or so ago. Tifa swore the gruff old pilot could be as dense as Cloud was sometimes, especially when it concerned women.

Thanks, you two, she replied cheerfully.

Cid grunted, hugged her, and sat down again. Hell, Shera's looked over that damn thing like twenty times now, so you shouldn't have anything to worry about.

I hope the baby enjoys it, Tifa. Shera beamed at her husband's left-handed compliment and gave his hand an affectionate squeeze. He pretended to ignore it, lost as he was in his typical macho facade, but Tifa didn't miss at all the fact that he hadn't immediately removed his hand from his wife's.

An' if that kid of yours ever wants flyin' lessons, Cid added sternly, don't you even think about sendin' him to anyone but me, got it?

Tifa laughed. We'll see, Cid. I don't think he's got any career aspirations just yet. Getting born should be more than enough for now.

From Tifa's right, on the other side of the room, Yuffie chirped in. Yeah, Cid, you don't wanna scar the kid for life, you know, the way you fly.

The hell's that s'posed to mean, squirt? Cid growled.

Nothing, except that I'm next! The dark-haired young ninja grinned and bounded over to Tifa, a neatly wrapped gift box in either hand.

Cloud raised an eyebrow. Hey, not bad, Yuffie. Two for one.

Yeah, well, I guess that just shows who's the better friend around here, Yuffie smirked and stuck her tongue out at Cid and Barret before sitting down near Tifa.

This oughta be good, Barret rumbled, but it ain't gonna top the crib I built, no way.

As she began to open the first of Yuffie's gifts, Tifa grinned and rolled her eyes. She should have known those three would go at it sooner or later. Constantly teasing and insulting each other in new and different ways seemed to be one of their favorite hobbies, though Tifa knew it was really a way of expressing a friendship none of them would ever openly admit. It _was_ fun to watch, though.

Yuffie gave the big, dark-skinned man on the couch a cocky smile. We'll just see about that, Barret! She's gonna like my gifts way better than yours!

Wanna bet? he shot back.

Hah! You're on!

Barret considered it for moment, then shook his head. Nah, never mind. You cheat.

I do not! Yuffie protested as Cid guffawed into helpless fits of laughter, You're just a big ol' coward is what that's all about!

Coward? Yer the one that stole all our materia, girl, an' then left us high an' dry. And ya couldn't even give it back in the right order!

The lithe young ninja smiled sheepishly. That was, um just, um uh a little misunderstanding, that's all. Yeah, that's right! So just be glad I had the heart to give it back to you at all, you big lug, and quit complaining!

Tifa suppressed a snort. There was no way Barret was ever going to allow Yuffie to forget _that_ little incident. It had taken Tifa and the others weeks of hiking northward across the mountains of Wutai to finally catch up to her, and actually capturing the elusive ninja had been no small task either what with unexpected complications from the Turks and the late Don Corneo.

As she withdrew Yuffie's gift from the box, Tifa gasped. Oh, Yuffie

What is it? Cloud asked, leaning toward her to try and get a better look at the gift.

Resting in Tifa's palm was a finely wrought silver amulet crafted into the shape of a slithering sea serpent twisting and coiling around itself and hanging from a long, simple chain of tiny silver links. The individual scales on the serpent's sides were clearly visible, and the majestic beast stared out at her with bluish green eyes made of sparkling aquamarine gemstones. A silent roar issued from the serpent's open mouth, delicately shaped teeth lining its jaws in a row of sharp, knifelike points.

Tifa whispered.

Yuffie nodded. It's the medallion of the Water God. My family's kept it for generations, but I want you guys to have it now. Give it to your kid when he's old enough, and he'll always have the Great Serpent's protection, or so the tradition goes.

Tifa drew the other girl into a hug and smiled gratefully. Yuffie, thank you. It's wonderful!

Hey, no prob, Tifa! I knew you'd like it!

Not bad, kid, Barret admitted grudgingly. Not bad at all

Yuffie grinned and winked at him. You know it! But that ain't all! Open the other one, Tifa!

Within the second box lay a smooth sphere of translucent crystal roughly the size and shape of a child's marble. The orb glowed brightly with a vibrant purplish aura as Tifa carefully grasped it with her fingers and thumb and held it lightly in her hand. She could feel in her palm the cool tingling sensation of magical energy flowing from the crystal sphere.

Looks like materia, Cloud observed, but I can't tell what kind, exactly.

Cid nearly choked. Yuffie? _Giving_ materia away?

Oh, shut it! the ninja snapped waspishly. I don't _always_ steal materia!

Could've fooled me, Barret rumbled.

Yuffie ignored the bait and grinned at Tifa. It's a special kind of materia for you to give your kid when he's older, Tifa. It'll let you communicate with someone over great distances, kinda like telepathy or something. Supposedly, you can sometimes even see what the other person is seeing. I don't know if that last part's true or not, but it'd be way cool if it was!

This is amazing, Yuffie, Tifa replied, gazing wonderingly at the materia. Where did you find it?

Family secret—and _no,_ I didn't steal it. The young ninja glared meaningfully at Cid and Barret as she made that last comment.

From nearby on Tifa's right, Red padded over to get a better look at the materia. It is of the independent class, but I have not encountered this specific type of materia before. How fascinating. Does it have a name, Yuffie?

Yeah, it's called Farsight. And don't ask for details on how I got it, either.

Probably don't wanna know, Barret snorted.

Tifa smiled and hugged Yuffie again. Probably not, but it's still a nice gift. Thanks, Yuffie.

Sure thing! the ninja chirped, flopping comfortably back down on the carpet.

The materia glowed softly in Tifa's hand, and she wondered if it was truly capable of doing what Yuffie claimed it could. Not that Tifa thought there would be much of a need for it, what with her adventuring days being long over, but the materia was nice to have nevertheless. She was a little surprised herself that Yuffie hadn't kept it for her own, as the young ninja liked collecting any new and unique materia she could find. Suffice it to say, Tifa was touched by Yuffie's uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

Unusual gifts, to say the least, a low voice observed quietly. 

On the far side of the room, off to Tifa's right, Vincent stood quietly near a window. His gaze hadn't left the falling snow outside, but Tifa knew without a doubt that he had heard everything she and the others had said. There was little that escaped his extraordinarily sensitive ears and eyes.

Wrapped in his typical grim silence, he slowly approached Tifa, his crimson cape rustling softly with each step, and handed her an odd-shaped bundle draped in black cloth. I believe I am next, as I recall. Do not be too disappointed, Tifa. I am afraid it is not my best work.

I don't think I'll be disappointed at all, Vincent, she replied, smiling at him a little as she removed the cloth. You always put yourself down—

The words died in her throat as she stared breathlessly at Vincent's gift, an expertly crafted wooden carving of a soaring white dove, its wings spread wide in flight. Every minute detail was intricately shaped, from the individual barbs on each feather to the claws of the bird's toes and the slight grooves along its beak. The dove's dark eyes seemed to gaze at Tifa as though they were somehow real, and she half-expected the bird, crafted and painted with such incredible realism and detail, to suddenly come alive in her hand and take flight.

Tifa breathed, a catch in her voice, this is incredible! You did this yourself?

He nodded. It is something I have taken up over the past few years during my travels. The shaping of the wood eases my solitude.

You don't have to be alone, she smiled sadly at him.

I know, Tifa, but I choose to be. Even now, I am feared and misunderstood by most people. It does not bother me, for I am used to it, but I have found it best to keep to myself.

Tifa understood Vincent's reasoning well enough. Had she not known him better and fought alongside him numerous times during the pursuit of Sephiroth, she might have felt uneasy herself in his presence. Vincent, with his dark, stoic demeanor and fearsome appearance, seemed at first glance more a figure born of nightmares than a flesh and blood human being.

Admiring the dove's craftsmanship and intricate design, Tifa marveled that something so beautiful could come from the hands of a man so tormented by his own inner demons. Perhaps, she thought, bringing form and shape to the wood helped him keep those demons at bay. By losing himself in his art, perhaps he was able to forget for a while his dark and tortured past.

Thank you, Vincent, for the gift, Tifa said, It really is beautiful. I'm sure it'll look wonderful in the baby's room upstairs.

He bowed slightly to her. May your child find the peace I never will, Tifa.

Vincent, don't— Tifa began, but a sudden knocking on the front door cut her off. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Cloud as he rose with her from the sofa to answer the door. Their friends from town had already stopped by earlier in the day to give Tifa gifts and wish her and Cloud well, so unless someone had forgotten something, Tifa had no idea who it could be.

Cloud opened the door to reveal an old man, wrinkled yet hale and healthy for his age. A thin white moustache lined his upper lip, and wisps of gray hair peeked out from his battered brown hat. Tifa recognized him at once as old Hamfast Wentwood, the pleasant fellow who ran the general store down the street. His eyes, normally bright and cheerful whenever Tifa chatted amiably with him while browsing through his shop, were now clouded with worry and fear.

What's wrong, Ham? Tifa asked, using the nickname he often went by.

The old man wrung his hands nervously. I'm real sorry to break in on you like this, Tifa, it being your special day and all, but I don't know who else to turn to. Miri's gone! My little granddaughter's missing, Cloud! Someone took her!

Tifa gasped in spite of herself. She had, over the years, become accustomed to seeing little Miri playing out in the snow with the other kids in town or pretending to run the shop with her grandfather. The girl's parents had been killed in a mountain climbing accident out on Gaea's Cliff when she was only two years old, and since then, her grandfather had taken care of her. Tifa had grown fond of the little girl, perhaps because like Miri she too had lost her parents long ago, first her mother to sickness and then later her father to Sephiroth's wicked blade.

His eyes narrowing, Cloud beckoned the old man inside. Tell us what happened.

Hamfast nodded and sank into a nearby chair. I was minding the store and keeping an eye on Miri out the window. She was playin' out front in the snow by herself, enjoyin' her winter break from school. I had to get somethin' real quick for a customer, and by the time I got back to the counter and looked out the window again, Miri was gone. Funny thing is, my customer was gone, too.

Can you describe this individual? Red asked.

Yeah, I couldn't forget her even if I tried. She was a strange one, no doubt. I couldn't see much of her, what with that gray cloak she wore, cept that her skin was real pale and her hair was blue and real long. Made me shiver just bein' near her, specially with those red eyes of hers. I'd had it nice and warm inside the shop, but when she came in it was like the inside of a blizzard if I got too close to her.

Cloud grimaced in recognition. An ice witch.

Tifa shivered at the mention of the formidable and mysterious beings that dwelt far out on the icy slopes of the glaciers. Ice witches, or Snows, as they were more commonly known, were the sirens of the frozen north, often luring unwary male travelers to their doom with a combination of powerful magic and seductive allure. Few of the Snows' unfortunate victims were ever heard from again.

One of them damn Snows? Barret growled. What would they want with a little girl? They're usually into nabbin' men, ain't they? 

Cloud agreed, but what would she be doing so far south? The ice witches live up on the Great Glacier hundreds of miles from here.

Vincent's reply was quiet, yet it chilled Tifa's blood. Perhaps she took the girl as bait

His fist clenching, Cloud nodded. For me, no doubt.

But why you? Tifa asked worriedly, taking his hand in hers.

I'm not sure, Tifa, but she has to know that I'm gonna go after her. I won't let her hurt Miri.

If you're right and the witch is counting on you to pursue her, Cloud, this means that it's almost certainly a trap, Reeve added.

Crossing her arms, Yuffie frowned angrily. She'll be sorry she crossed a ninja, I can tell you that much! Maybe she won't be expecting so many of us. We'll really get the jump on her then!

That's what I'm hoping, Cloud replied. Red, if you were to smell something of Miri's, could you track her? I doubt the ice witch would have left us a trail to follow across the snow when she could just summon a blizzard to wipe out her tracks.

Red nodded. I believe so. My olfactory sense is much more acute than that of a human, so it should not be difficult to follow Miri's scent to where she is being held.

Ham held in his hand a purple wool mitten wet with molten snow. I found it lying on the ground where Miri was before she disappeared.

Padding over to the old man, Red sniffed for a moment at the mitten and squinted in concentration for a moment before nodding in satisfaction and turning to the others. I have the girl's scent, Cloud. All that remains is to gather our gear. I would suggest that we go out on chocobos, as we have no way of knowing how far out the trail goes.

Alright, then, Cloud ordered, let's get moving, people. We don't have any time to waste.

That fucking ice bitch is gonna be feelin' the pointy end of my spear up her fucking ass by the time I get fucking through with her, I can tell you that fucking much, Cid spat, his blue eyes hard.

Tifa went to the front hall closet and withdrew hers and Cloud's coats as Cid, Barret, Yuffie, and Vincent filed out to get their things from their rooms at the inn next door. Red's formidable claws and teeth were his weapons, and his thick fur would keep him warm even on the coldest night. Extremes in temperature rarely bothered him, Tifa knew, as he had grown up in a desert where it was often unbearably hot during the day and frigidly cold at night.

What are you doing? Cloud asked, having retrieved his sword from the den down the hall as Tifa pulled on her coat.

What's it look like I'm doing? she replied briskly, handing him his coat, I'm going with you.

He frowned as he shrugged the thick garment on. No, you're not, Tifa. I can't let you do that.

Why not? This is our goddaughter we're talking about, Cloud. I'm not gonna let anything happen to her if I can help it.

You're in no condition to fight, he protested angrily. You'd only be in the way.

At least I'd be there! she snapped. Why couldn't he understand? Tifa was a fighter, and she always would be. She had fought at her husband's side so many times during their pursuit of Sephiroth years ago that she had lost count. Why should this be any different? Why should she have to stay on the sidelines, out of the action and unable to help him and the others save Miri?

As if in answer, she felt a light thud against the inside of her abdomen as the baby suddenly kicked. Tifa sighed bitterly, placing a hand lightly on her belly where she had felt the slight impact as reality finally set in and she realized glumly that she wasn't going anywhere. Yet at the same time, she couldn't deny the strange and exhilarating sensation of the life slowly growing inside her. What would it be like, she wondered, to finally hold her child in her arms, to see what she and her husband had somehow created through the passion of their love?

Tifa looked up at her husband as she felt his hand come to rest gently upon hers. His expression had softened, and he gazed tenderly at her. I know you want to be out there with us, Tifa, and if you weren't pregnant, I would want you out there too. You've always been good in a fight. But you're carrying our child now, and I don't want to risk anything happening to either of you.

I understand, Cloud, and I'm sorry I got angry. It's just so frustrating, that's all.

I know, he replied, tenderly stroking her cheek, and I'm sorry, too. If anything ever happened to you or the baby, I'd never be able to forgive myself. You two are my whole life, and I love you both. I couldn't bear it if I ever lost either of you.

She smiled then and kissed him for a moment before pulling away. I love you too, Cloud. Now get going and bring Miri home safe and sound.

Right. I'll take the PHS and call you once we get her back.

Be careful, Tifa warned him.

He nodded and wrapped his arms around her. I will, I promise.

With a last, lingering kiss, Cloud bade her farewell and headed out the door to saddle his chocobo and meet the others. Tifa looked on from the front door as minutes later he led his mount out of the stable and across the snow to where the others were gathering. Red ran ahead a little ways in front of the group, leading the way as Cloud and the others moved out into the gathering twilight and headed toward the western end of town, where the trail apparently seemed to lead out across the snowfields.

Tifa sighed and watched them go until they were out of sight.


	5. Chapter 5

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 5**  


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Cloud shivered, his breath steaming in the chill air, and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. He didn't mind the cold so much, not when he had properly prepared for it. Keeping one hand steady on the reins of his chocobo, he carefully adjusted the thick wool scarf tied loosely around his neck above the collar of his thick winter coat. The knot in the scarf always seemed to want to come undone, at least whenever he tied it himself. He wished he had remembered to ask Tifa to tie it for him before he had left, but he'd had other things on his mind at the time.

Around him, dusk deepened as the sun's last waning light sifted its way feebly through the snow-laden branches of the trees that densely covered the lower slopes of the mountains. The ground gradually rose upward and grew steeper as Cloud and his companions continued to ride westward into the coming night. Behind them the sky was already dark, a star or two beginning to emerge in the twilight.

For almost three hours now, Cloud and his companions had ridden in pursuit of the elusive ice witch who had abducted Miri. Red kept the others on the trail, often running a ways ahead to ascertain which way Miri's scent had gone. So far, the trail had led almost steadily due west, and Cloud had the uncanny and unsettling feeling that this was somehow too easy, that there was something more going on here than just a simple kidnapping. He wondered where the ice witch was leading them.

It wasn't long before he found out.

Red padded up a short time later, his paws almost soundless in the snow. There is a cave no more than a mile further west of here, Cloud. The entrance is somewhat hidden, but Miri's scent led me to it. The trail goes directly inside. The ice witch must be in there with Miri.

Cloud answered, bringing his mount to a brief halt as the others did the same, we'll ride on for another half mile and then go the rest of the way on foot. Red, go on and see if you can get an idea of how deep that cave is. Some of the tunnels under these mountains go on for miles, and I don't want to lose Miri down there.

Red nodded and loped off westward through the trees back the way he had come.

Tugging on the reins of his chocobo, Cloud led the others onward in the direction Red had departed. They rode in silence save for the creaking of the harnesses and the crunching of the chocobo's feet in the snow. Smells of pine and spruce filled Cloud's nostrils as the leafless beeches and oaks gradually gave way to towering evergreens.

Had this been a casual ride or even one of his patrols, Cloud would have enjoyed being out here away from civilization for a while. He had always liked the outdoors, reveling in the brisk mountain air, the sight of leaves changing from green to a vibrant splash of reds and yellows and oranges during the autumn, and the trickling streams that meandered aimlessly along through the woods from springs high in the mountains. Mostly, he enjoyed the peace and quiet he often found there, a relaxing sensation so much different from the faster pace of civilization.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Cloud brought his chocobo to a halt and signaled his companions to do the same. He carefully dismounted from the large bird, patting her gold-tinged feathers affectionately as he tethered her to a nearby tree. Ayla was of an extremely rare breed of chocobo, for there were only a handful of golds in the entire world. This particular bird had been a gift from a traveler in Kalm for defeating the monstrous Ruby Weapon that had emerged in the Corel Desert in the days just prior to the destruction of Meteor.

Adjusting the massive Ultima sword strapped to his back, Cloud slowly made his way forward through the woods, occasionally glimpsing Red's leonine form ghosting soundlessly between the trees ahead of him. His companions followed close behind, weapons ready, and Cloud was well aware of their presence as they spread out to either side of him.

A short time later, they reached the cave entrance. Red was waiting for them just outside the dark opening in the hillside. The trees and brush were thicker here and much closer together, and had Cloud and the others not followed Red they might have passed the cave without even knowing it. The black maw of the cave mouth yawned ominously at them in the darkness.

Alright, let's go pound that witch! Yuffie exclaimed, shattering the silence.

Not so goddamn loud, squirt! Cid hissed irritably. You tryin' to let her know we're here?

Why the heck not? She should know by now that we're gonna kick her sorry frozen behind from here to the North Crater!

Cloud glared sternly at her. Pipe down, Yuffie. We don't know how good her hearing is, and I'd like to keep the advantage of surprise for as long as I can. Got it?

Fine, then! the young ninja huffed, crossing her arms and frowning belligerently as she fingered her five-pointed shuriken.

Drawing his sword, Cloud sighed and crept silently into the cave, motioning as he did so for Red to take the lead. The pale beam of Barret's flashlight spilled into the gloom, illuminating a single rough tunnel that seemed to lead deeper into the mountain. The cave was silent save for the faint sound of water dripping in some other tunnel or chamber nearby, and a damp, musty odor filled the air.

After several hundred feet or so, the corridor reached an intersection, branching into three different passageways. To the left, one tunnel descended steeply into inky blackness amidst a small forest of stalactites and stalagmites that made the tunnel seem like the open jaws of some huge dragon. Cloud shrugged off that thought and glanced to the right, where a less cluttered passageway rose upward along a somewhat gentler incline before turning a corner out of sight. The central corridor continued straight ahead, narrowing as it went on into the darkness.

Which way? Barret asked.

Cloud shrugged and turned to Red. Can you pick up Miri's scent in any of these tunnels?

The fierce, pantherlike beast padded forward a bit, turning his head this way and that as he sought the elusive trail that had brought Cloud and his companions this far. Red approached each of the three tunnels, actually going a short distance inside each one of them, before finally sighing in defeat and returning to where the others waited.

I am sorry, Cloud, but I cannot be sure which direction the ice witch went. Miri's scent is here, but it has grown faint and difficult to track.

Cloud grimaced. We'll have to split up, then. Barret, Yuffie, take the left. Red, Vincent, you two follow the tunnel on the right. Cid, you're with me. We'll keep going down the middle corridor and see where it takes us. If the rest of you guys don't find anything in half an hour, meet back here at the intersection. Everyone understand?

The others nodded and began moving off quietly in their assigned directions, quickly disappearing into the tunnels on either side as Cloud headed cautiously with Cid down the main passageway. The gloom around him held at bay only by the steady purplish-white glow of his sword, Cloud strained to make out something, anything, in the silence and shadows of the cave. To his left, Cid gripped his Venus Gospel spear tightly, his expression set and determined as a few wispy tendrils of smoke drifted up from the cigarette firmly clamped in the corner of his mouth.

After what seemed like hours, the corridor began to widen into a larger chamber. Long, jagged spears of rock hung down from the high ceiling, some of them reaching nearly to the ground. Stalagmites thrust up here and there around the room like monstrous teeth, in places joining with the stalactites to form natural columns that left parts of the chamber veiled in deep shadow.

What riveted Cloud's attention, however, was the young girl lying against the base of one of the stalagmites nearby. Her wrists and ankles were both securely tied, her arms bound behind her back, and her mouth had been firmly gagged with a thick gray cloth. Miri was wearing her bright pink winter coat, a matching hat with a white pompom on top, and a pair of black rubber galoshes. Strands of blond hair hung limply around her ears, and she stared out at her surroundings with wide, frightened blue eyes.

Cloud immediately hurried over toward Miri, intent on freeing her, but stopped abruptly when a soft, husky voice purred seductively from the shadows to his right.

So, warrior you have come at last. I have been waiting for you

* * *

Weaving his way awkwardly among the clusters of stalagmites and stalactites that stubbornly continued to somehow get in his way, Barret grunted sourly as he tried to keep up with Yuffie. He had been following her through this tunnel for what seemed to him like hours, his flashlight doing little to illuminate the ever-present gloom of the cave. More than once, the big man had bumped his head into a low-hanging stalactite or banged his toes painfully against a stalagmite, muttering to himself in annoyance and glaring sullenly at the offending rock formations.

This place is _way_ too goddamn small, Barret growled irritably under his breath. He hated cramped, enclosed areas like this.

Glancing up, he noticed that Yuffie had stopped a short distance ahead of him and was staring oddly off into the shadows at something too far away for him to see just yet. Squinting his eyes in the darkness, Barret slowly made his way toward her until he was standing just behind the young ninja's left side. He let out a low whistle as his flashlight illuminated what had caught Yuffie's attention.

The passageway ahead of them was choked with rubble and fallen rock, preventing any further progress in that direction. Barret guessed that the ceiling had collapsed at some time or other in the recent past, and he shivered uneasily as he suddenly thought of the countless tons of rock and earth over his head. Though he had once been a coal miner, he had never quite gotten comfortable being underground.

Barret shrugged his broad shoulders and sighed. Guess we came all this way for nothing, squirt. Let's head back to the intersection and try ta catch up to Spike and Cid. Mebbe they're havin' better luck than we are, least I hope so.

Wait a sec, Barret! she exclaimed suddenly. Look over there to the right!

The big man shone his flashlight in the direction Yuffie indicated, off to the young ninja's right side. Hidden amongst a few shards of fallen rock at the base of the wall was a small, narrow crawlspace no more than two or three feet high and shrouded in gloom. Peering inside the dark, cramped tunnel, Barret shuddered nervously.

You gotta be kiddin' me, he muttered. There's no way I'm goin' in there with ya!

Yuffie grinned impishly at him. If you want, Barret, you can wait here for me, but I'm thinkin' we should go and see where this tunnel leads!"

How can you be so sure that's where Miri is? She could be anywhere by now. And how would you know where in the hell yer goin' when you can't see a goddamn thing? Sides, there ain't no way we can fit in that goddamn tunnel anyway.

Oh, sure there is, Barret! Yuffie snapped. We just go on our hands and knees and crawl our way through. And I don't need to worry about the dark, either. I'm only the best ninja in the world, after all, and I've trained in blind fighting and stuff like that for years in Wutai. Miri could be somewhere down this tunnel waiting for us to come save her, so let's go, already!

Without waiting for him to reply, Yuffie knelt and crawled headfirst into the tunnel. Barret sighed and shook his head in disgust, yet got down on his knees to follow her anyway. As he entered the cramped passageway and the rock walls closed tightly around him, Barret shivered and tried not to think about what would happen if he got stuck. He felt as though he were clamped in a huge vise pressing inexorably together and threatening to crush him flat.

There was one terrifying moment during this slow journey when Barret's flashlight suddenly winked out, plunging the big man into utter darkness. Panicked at the thought of getting stuck here in the dark, he banged the flashlight repeatedly against the wall until it eventually sputtered to life again. Barret sighed in relief, not even bothering to comment when Yuffie smirked at him over her shoulder.

At last, after so many long, silent minutes that Barret had lost count, the tunnel came to an end as it opened into a much larger chamber. Barret started to pull himself gratefully out of the confined tunnel, but Yuffie, who had already exited ahead of him, quickly turned and motioned him to wait. She was kneeling quietly in front of a natural column of rock, one of several clustered nearby, and peering intently further into the shadows of the large room.

she whispered, turn off your flashlight! Someone's out there!

The big man nodded reluctantly and flipped the switch to cut off the light, plunging himself and Yuffie into near total darkness. As he crawled out of the tunnel and knelt next to the young ninja, however, he could see that towards the far end of the room was another light source, a dim purplish-white glow that he recognized almost immediately.

Damn, it looks like Cloud's down there somewhere, an' Cid too, probably. That light's gotta be Cloud's big ol' sword. Let's go an' see if he's found anything.

Barret started to get up, but Yuffie suddenly grabbed his arm and pointed. Wait! There's someone else coming out now, I can just barely see. It's gotta be the ice witch, Barret, and if she's there, then Miri's definitely down there, too.

Well, what are we waitin' for? Barret growled. Let's go!

Not so fast, big guy. Leave this to the expert! I'll sneak up and get the jump on the ice witch when she isn't looking, and you just stay here and cover me in case something goes wrong.

What's wrong with me comin' with you? I can't hardly see much, anyway, Barret grumbled.

Yuffie was already brandishing her shuriken in anticipation. You'd make way too much noise, Barret. She'd hear you coming a mile away! But I can be so quiet that I could creep up right behind the witch and she'd never even know I was there. Trust me, this'll work!

Fine, have it your way, squirt. Just don't come cryin' to me when you screw it up.

Just you wait and see, Barret! Yuffie grinned, I'll give that witch a beating she'll never forget!

The lithe young ninja flitted stealthily from pillar to pillar and crouched furtively behind one rock formation or another as she began to slowly make her way soundlessly towards Cloud and the ice witch. Grumbling sourly to himself, Barret sighed and brought up his gun-arm. It had been quite a while since he had last used it, but he didn't doubt it would do the job if needed. Sighting along the barrel as he tried to take aim in the near darkness, he hoped he wouldn't have to find out.

* * *

It would appear that we have found yet another fork in the road, Vincent observed quietly.

He and Red had followed this passageway for some time as it had twisted and turned this way and that, sometimes even doubling back on itself, ascending or descending seemingly at random. At times, the corridor had narrowed so that Vincent and Red had been forced to proceed in single file, and in other places the passageway had been wide enough for four people to walk abreast.

His keen eyes seeing clearly even in the darkness, Vincent pondered the new passageway that split off to the left of the main corridor and descended deeper into the mountain's roots. This tunnel was the first such side passage he and Red had encountered thus far on their dark and silent journey. So far, the two companions had found no other sign of Miri or the ice witch, although Red had still been able to detect faint traces of the young girl's scent.

Do we split up once again? Vincent queried.

Red, his good eye peering intently into the gloom, crept softly over to the new corridor. The small flame that continually burned on the tip of his tail weaved its way languidly through the air like a will o wisp floating in the darkness. Its bright orange glow did little to lessen the shadows around Vincent and his companion, though both could see well enough.

Padding a few steps just inside the new corridor, Red suddenly froze. I do not believe that will be necessary, Vincent. Look here!

Cocking the trigger of his Death Penalty rifle, Vincent crept soundlessly to Red's side and followed his friend's gaze. Lying upon the ground to one side of the passageway was a purple wool mitten, identical to the one Hamfast had shown everyone back at Tifa's home. Vincent knelt and with the bronze claw that served as his left hand, he carefully grasped the mitten and gazed at it quietly for a moment before tucking it carefully into one of the inside pockets of the thick cloak he wore over his other clothing.

Vincent's eyes narrowed. It would seem that our search has not been completely futile after all. It may still come to naught, however, if the witch escapes with her captive.

That is yet to be discovered, my friend, Red admonished him. We can still hope to save the girl, but we must hurry. There is no time to go back and tell Cloud of this discovery, so we must follow this corridor and hope to find Miri ourselves.

Vincent nodded, and together he and Red set off down the tunnel at a brisk pace, hurrying cautiously through the dark, lightless corridor as it descended back down into the depths of the mountain's roots. Moving with the silent, deadly grace of one long used to dwelling in places where light seldom reached, Vincent made no sound as he crept swiftly along the passageway. He had always felt at home in the shadows, in the darkness where few others ever dared to tread. Light had no meaning for him, and hope was nothing but ashes and dust. Joy had left him long ago, left him along with the woman he had once loved and the humanity that had been cruelly stripped away until nothing was left but a bitter, monstrous creature that had once been a man.

Moving soundlessly through the tunnel, he was just another shadow in the gloom save for the crimson eyes that stared intently into the blackness as clearly as though it was broad daylight. He wrapped the darkness around himself like a shroud, losing himself in its familiar embrace. Grasping his weapon firmly in his good hand, he silently followed his companion as the great beast loped steadily onward in determined pursuit of their elusive quarry.

Gradually, Vincent began to pick up the sound of voices speaking somewhere still some distance ahead. He didn't need to look at Red to know that his companion, with his exceptionally keen ears, had also heard the soft murmurs of exchanged dialogue, although at this distance it was difficult to make out what was being said or who was saying it.

As he and Red went on, however, Vincent thought he recognized at least one of the voices as belonging to Cloud. The other, though, was unfamiliar yet undeniably feminine, and Vincent guessed it to be the ice witch. He exchanged a brief glance with Red and nodded, tightening his grip on the Death Penalty's trigger as his companion flattened his ears and unsheathed his sharp claws.

* * *

Cloud watched guardedly as the ice witch stepped slowly out from behind a pillar of rock to his right. The fabric of her gray robes rustled softly as she approached him, her face hidden in the depths of her hood, and Cloud felt the air suddenly grow chill as she drew near. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and he gripped the hilt of his weapon more tightly as he attempted to quietly edge closer to Miri without alerting the ice witch of what he was doing.

To continue your current course of action would be most unwise, warrior, the witch said, her voice soft yet laced with steel, if you value the child's life.

The ice witch lifted an arm, palm outward, and from around the stalagmite where Miri lay, a thick, greenish-black tentacle brushed lightly across the little girl's boots. The monstrous appendage then wrapped itself tightly around a low-hanging stalactite nearby and squeezed until the rock formation abruptly exploded into a shower of stone fragments and dust. Miri shrieked in terror, flinching at the noise, and tears ran from her eyes as the tentacle wrapped itself securely around her neck.

Cloud swore and immediately halted in his tracks, motioning Cid to do the same, as his friend, livid with rage, was about to charge headlong at the witch. Reluctantly, the gruff pilot complied, spewing out a stream of angry epithets as he did so. Cloud couldn't really blame him, but attacking the ice witch now would likely only get Miri killed.

I believe that we have reached the part of this encounter where I ask you to divest yourselves of your weapons, have we not? the ice witch continued, Do not make the mistake of hesitation, warrior. Neither you nor your companion would like the consequences of such inaction.

With a sigh, Cloud dropped his sword to the ground as Cid tossed his own weapon aside and glared balefully at the witch. Alright, you goddamn ice bitch! We did what you fuckin' asked us to do! Now who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want?

The ice witch ignored him, turning instead to Cloud. Your companion has a most foul tongue, warrior. I suggest you teach him to restrain it, lest I cut it out.

Try it, bitch, Cid growled.

Cloud glared and shook his head at the crusty pilot before turning back to the Snow. You didn't answer his question, madam. Who are you? And what do you want?

Stepping closer, the ice witch drew back her hood to reveal a coldly beautiful face framed with silken strands of dark blue hair that hung down past her shoulders. Her skin was pale, with a faint bluish tint, and her full lips were a deep blue as well. Lined with lashes such a dark blue they were nearly black, eyes the color of blood stared chillingly at Cloud with a strange yet undeniable hunger.

I am known as Iseldra, and as for what I want, warrior, it is quite simple. She paused a moment for emphasis before continuing. 

Why me? Cloud asked.

Because it was you who deprived my sister of her life, warrior. You tried to poison her with water from that filthy hot spring, and when that did not work, you cut her down and robbed her. Did you not know that the materia you so callously stole from her had been kept safe by our kind for generations before you took it? Now, warrior, your misdeeds have come back to haunt you.

What do you mean? Cloud exclaimed, I never tried to poison or rob anyone, madam! Your sister attacked me when I tried to take shelter in her cave. A storm had come up while I was out there with my friends on the glacier, and we needed a place to camp for the night. We didn't know the cave was inhabited when we found it, otherwise we would have moved on.

Iseldra sniffed disdainfully. Excuses, warrior. They do not alter the fact that my sister is dead. Her blood cries out to me for vengeance.

Even after four years? That's a pretty long time to hold a grudge.

It matters not. My vengeance will be all the sweeter for the waiting I have endured, and I will savor the moment of its arrival that much more.

Why not just kill me and be done with it? Cloud shrugged.

Iseldra shook her head, a slight devilish smile playing across her lips, That would be too quick, warrior, and far too easy.

So you mean to torture me, then.

No, warrior, Iseldra breathed, drawing close to him and letting her fingers trail lightly along his arms as she gazed hungrily at him. I mean to have you.

Reaching up to the clasp of her cloak, she unfastened it and let the thick garment fall away unheeded to the cave floor. Iseldra wore little underneath it save for a diaphanous blue garment that left little to the imagination and showed a wealth of pale bluish skin along her arms and legs. Her soft breasts pressed tightly against the fabric, revealing a more than generous amount of cleavage below her bare shoulders, and her dark blue hair hung down all the way to the curves of her hips.

Cloud stared, his breathing gone quite suddenly heavy as his eyes wandered over Iseldra's scantily clad, voluptuous figure. He tried desperately to think of his wife and her own lovely body but found his thoughts inexplicably foundering as Iseldra wove her way sinuously up to him like a cat in heat. She wrapped an arm around him and lightly stroked the back of his neck with her fingers as she pushed her breasts and groin firmly against him.

you call this revenge? Cloud wondered, trying to ignore the distracting and unnerving sensation of the witch's body pressed against his.

Ah, but of course, warrior, Iseldra breathed, her cheek brushing against his as she lightly touched her lips to his ear, To own you, to make you mine when your heart is forever bonded to another, and to make you willingly betray that bond. That is a much sweeter vengeance than your blood or screams could ever hope to be, for I will have instead broken your very spirit.

Cloud stepped back, away from the powerfully alluring ice witch, and eyed her incredulously. And why in the hell would I ever do a thing like that?

In answer, Iseldra lifted her hand, and the tentacle around Miri's neck tightened even further. Cloud narrowed his eyes and sighed, clenching his fists tightly in frustration. How could he ever possibly betray his wife, the woman he loved more than life itself? Yet to save Miri, he had no other choice. He wouldn't let an innocent little girl die if he could help it.

How do I know you'll let her go if I stay with you? Cloud asked warily.

The tentacle loosened its tight grip around Miri ever so slightly at Iseldra's silent command but still gripped the girl's neck securely. Cloud wondered briefly what manner of creature the clammy, hideous limb belonged to, hidden deep in the inky blackness beyond his sword's illumination. Shivering, he decided he didn't want to know.

Suddenly, a bright circle of metal shot out of the shadows to Cloud's left, slicing cleanly through the tentacle that held Miri captive, and Cloud recognized the foreign object instantly as Yuffie's razor-tipped shuriken. The ninja herself soon followed, retrieving her weapon and quickly scooping up the little girl in her arms as an angry, bestial roar sounded loudly from the blackness and scores of writhing tentacles suddenly shot out at Yuffie and Miri.

Instantly, Cloud dove and retrieved his sword, rolling effortlessly to his feet and assuming a defensive stance, both hands gripping the hilt of the blade. Cid also had grabbed his spear and was speeding toward the mass of tentacles that lashed angrily after the two girls. Yuffie was agile and quick, skillfully ducking and dodging the grabbing appendages and slicing at them with her shuriken, but Cloud knew she couldn't hold out forever, especially burdened as she was with Miri.

The creature finally emerged into the dim light, a vast insectlike thing with dozens of tentacles lining its round, gaping maw. Two bulbous black eyes sat on its head, and each of its ten legs ended in a sharp, knifelike claw. The beast's segmented body was armored with a hard, chitinous exoskeleton that threw off showers of yellow sparks as it deflected the bullets suddenly shooting through the air in rapid succession, and Cloud guessed that Barret was somewhere nearby providing cover fire.

Glaring menacingly at the ice witch, Cloud grabbed her arm and pointed with his sword at the monstrous beast. Iseldra! Call that damned thing off, _now!_

Not even I can control it when it is enraged, warrior. In its present state, it will not heed my commands, nor even hear them.

Cloud swore in frustration. He was about to head into the fray himself when a bright reddish blur leapt out from his right and slammed into the side of the massive creature, followed by several thundering rounds from a heavy shotgun as Vincent suddenly emerged from the shadows nearby. He shifted his aim slightly, and one of the beast's eyes burst open when he fired again.

Cloud nodded to his friend and concentrated on the materia in his sword and bracers. His companions were too close to the creature to risk using Ultima or Bahamut, but maybe a little lightning would work. Focusing on the magical energy of the Thunder materia, Cloud strained to bring its power to bear upon the massive beast, yet somehow nothing happened, no thunderbolt appeared. The blond warrior tried again, only to encounter the same strange result.

As its eye collapsed, the creature roared in pain, its maw gaping open and its tentacles thrashing wildly, and smashed its way through the stalactites and stalagmites as its fury continued to build. Cid suddenly reached inside his coat, withdrew a stick of dynamite, and lit it with the end of his still-burning cigarette before tossing it inside the beast's open mouth.

Fire in the hole, asshole! he shouted and dove to the side.

The creature's head suddenly exploded, blood and gore spattering everywhere as the massive body slumped lifelessly to the ground with a heavy thud. Silence hung in the air for long moments as the dust settled, and then Miri began to sniffle from within Yuffie's arms. Cloud sighed in relief as he saw that the rest of his friends appeared to be unhurt save for a few minor scratches here and there.

Iseldra suddenly yanked free from Cloud's grip on her arm and bolted toward the exit tunnel. The blond warrior quickly caught up to her, however, grabbed her from behind, spun her around and held her firmly against the wall as he brought the tip of his sword to rest lightly against her neck. The ice witch glared defiantly at him but said nothing.

Going somewhere? Cloud asked, eyes narrowing.


	6. Chapter 6

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 6**  


* * *

  


  
End it, warrior, Iseldra whispered, all trace of seductiveness gone from her voice, I have nothing left to lose except my life, and I care not for it.

Cloud steeled himself to do just that. He tried to remind himself of how dangerous the ice witch was, of the things she had done to deserve her fate. In his mind, he again saw the tentacle wrapped around little Miri's throat and the terror in the girl's eyes. He felt once more Iseldra's overpower sensuality as she had attempted to seduce him into betraying his wife, threatening him with Miri's life if he didn't comply. Cloud remembered all those things and told himself that the witch had brought this on herself, that her death would not have to be on his conscience.

As he gazed silently into Iseldra's blood red eyes, however, Cloud saw in those crimson irises not the hatred and evil he had expected, but instead emptiness, and fear. Not fear of him, he knew, or of the death that might yet claim her in the next moment. It was something else, something so terrifying that in her mind death was vastly preferable to encountering the object of that fear. In a flash of insight that he knew without a doubt was true, Cloud suddenly understood.

You wanted this to happen, he stated, knowing he was right.

Iseldra sighed. What does it matter? You have won, warrior, in either case. Finish me now and be done with it.

Why? I find it awfully convenient that my friends and I all managed to find our way here even though we had to split up three ways. And even when your pet attacked, once we were all here we were able to dispatch it with hardly a scratch to show for it. Tell me something, Iseldra. Did it really matter to you at all that we killed your sister all those years ago?

Iryana could have been torn apart by a rabid bandersnatch and I would not have cared less, Iseldra snapped, and that worthless little red bauble she always carried is nothing to me. My sister was a sadistic little wench who took pleasure in causing her mates as much pain as possible in the most creative ways she could imagine. I have never been averse to punishing a mate that would think to escape or do some other rash thing, but even I will only go so far.

Cloud raised an eyebrow. You're one hell of an actress, then, madam. I'll give you that much. But why do you want me to kill you so badly? If you want to die so much, why didn't you just kill yourself and save us the trouble of coming out here and doing it for you?

I tried, warrior, the witch looked away uneasily, her voice quiet, many times, but I could never go through with it.

Why, Iseldra? What are you so afraid of?

The witch slowly met his gaze once more, her voice a whisper when she spoke. A storm is coming, warrior, one such as this world has never before seen. I have felt it in my blood these past days, for I am a creature of magic and, like all such beings, I am far more sensitive to the ways of nature and the Planet than humans generally are.

A storm? Cid barked skeptically from behind Cloud as the others came near, You're all petrified cause you think some bigass storm's brewin' somewhere?

I do not speak of weather formations, but of a great darkness that will consume all in its path. A vast and terrible Shadow is approaching, warrior, a great and evil power from of old. There can be no escaping it, and against its might there can be no victory. The air grows frigid even for me, a maiden born of the ice and snow, for it is a chill not of nature but of the cold, black Hand of death itself!

Barret snorted. Cut the crap, lady! We—

No, Barret, Cloud cut him off with a sweeping motion of his left arm, I've felt something, too. When you spend as much time outdoors as I do, it's hard to miss. The woods have been too quiet lately, too still, and what little wildlife I do find is all skittish and afraid, like they sense a predator or a storm or something. Even the monsters aren't as aggressive as usual. I don't like it.

Iseldra nodded. So you understand, warrior. I would rather die now than live to see the disintegration of this world and its descent into nonexistence. It has already begun, for even this very night I have felt the Planet's reality begin to rupture.

Even so, madam, we've overcome dangers to our world before. We can beat this one.

Danger? Danger? Iseldra scoffed, Have you any idea of what you speak? What you call danger was the work of mere children, warrior! Petty vandals who knew not what they were dealing with, and a failed demigod who never truly understood the power he so desperately sought.

Barret grunted sourly. That failed demigod yer talkin' about damned near killed the Planet with that goddamn Meteor of his! Dangerous enough for me, lady.

The witch sniffed disdainfully. Had the Meteor struck, the Planet would still have recovered given enough time. It is far more resilient than you think, and far more complex. But the Shadow of which I speak will swallow the Planet utterly, piece by piece crumbling into the endless oblivion of the void. I feel the dark one's power reaching out even now into the very fabric of this world, and it will not be long before the Shadow becomes manifest.

How long? Cloud asked. He wasn't entirely sure yet that he believed her, but neither could he disregard her warnings out of hand. His warrior's instincts, finely honed over years of combat and countless battles, had been telling him lately that something wasn't right, and that sense of intuition had rarely, if ever, been wrong.

I do not know, warrior, Iseldra answered quietly, It could be days, it could be weeks. All I know for certain is that great evil is coming, and that none shall escape it.

Cloud stared grimly at the ice witch. So that's why you want to die

She nodded. Yes, warrior. End it quickly, and go back to your home for what time you have left before the veiling Shadow draws this world into darkness.

Tightening his grip on his sword, Cloud slowly pressed the weapon a little harder against Iseldra's throat and prepared to drive the blade home. Just a smooth, quick motion and it would be over. It wouldn't be the first time Cloud had ever killed someone, yet all those other times, it had been in the heat of battle, fighting to stay alive. Could he kill, now, like this? Take a life that was completely at his mercy, however deserving that death might be?

he replied softly, lowering his sword, I won't do it.

She stared at him incredulously. Why not, warrior? You have every right to do so!

That may be true, but I could never kill someone this way. Not even you, Iseldra. If you want to go and take your life, then do it yourself. I won't help you die.

His eyes never leaving the ice witch, Cloud slowly stepped away from her. In the dim light from his sword and Barret's flashlight, Iseldra's face was a pale mask of confusion and anger, and Cloud was willing to bet that she wasn't acting this time, that she had stopped acting the moment he had first pressed the tip of his blade against her neck.

I do not understand you, warrior, she argued. Killing is killing, whether hot-blooded or cold. It matters not how it is done, for the end result is the same.

Cloud shook his head. To you, maybe, but not to me. Maybe someday you'll understand.

I doubt that very much. Aside from the fact that you humans are far too complex to ever fully comprehend, I do not believe there will be time enough left anyway before the Shadow that is coming consumes this world utterly.

We'll see about that, Iseldra. I'm not about to give up hope just yet. Neither should you.

The ice witch sneered. Hope, warrior, is the denial of reality. I chose long ago not to be deceived by its false promises.

It must be a lonely way to live, Cloud remarked softly.

Iseldra blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then glared angrily at him. I do not need your pity, warrior! Now begone from here! If you will not kill me, then take your little whelp and go!

Cloud sighed and motioned for the others to head out through the nearby passageway he and Cid had originally entered from. There was little else they could accomplish here, he supposed, now that they had saved Miri. He moved to follow his friends out of the chamber, but suddenly a soft, cold hand came to rest on his shoulder and he turned to find Iseldra staring grimly at him, her crimson eyes boring relentlessly into his deep blue ones.

Know this, warrior, she whispered, if you try to resist the coming darkness, the price will be higher than you can possibly imagine. You will watch as all that you hold dear is swept away.

The future isn't written yet, Iseldra, Cloud responded, but if this threat of yours is real, then I'm gonna fight it with all I've got.

Iseldra shrugged and stepped away. As you wish. By letting me live, even when I desired otherwise, you have placed me in your debt. Though I detest it, I must honor it. Call upon me when you have need, warrior, so that I may fulfill this burdensome liability and be done with you.

Cloud nodded, and the ice witch melted back into the shadows from which she had come. Alone for the moment, the blond warrior pondered her last warning to him. Though he had responded confidently, a shiver of unease had worked its way down his spine nevertheless. Whether she had spoken out of genuine foresight or merely to frighten him, Cloud didn't know, but as he headed off after his companions, her words lingered hauntingly in his mind.

* * *

Making his way stealthily through the trees, Vincent crept soundlessly across the snow. His keen eyes peered intently into the shadows ahead, at the bare skeletons of leafless oaks and beeches silhouetted in the dim moonlight. Around him, silence lay upon the forest like a blanket. No stranger himself to the ways of the outdoors, Vincent frowned and gripped his rifle a little tighter, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. He found the unnatural stillness of the woods more than a little unsettling.

For almost an hour now, Vincent had been scouting ahead through the forest to be sure the ice witch had left no further surprises for himself and his companions. Though Cloud seemed to believe she wouldn't interfere with them any longer, Vincent wasn't so sure. Perhaps it was his more savage nature, but had it been his choice, he would not have hesitated to kill the ice witch. It made little sense, after all, to turn one's back to an enemy that had already proven herself quite dangerous.

Vincent pulled his cloak a little tighter about his shoulders as a soft yet chill wind began to whisper quietly through the trees, nipping his earlobes and breathing lightly across his cheeks. Its chill, melancholy song, a joyless hymn of death and despair, echoed around him in a low, mournful wail. The voice of the damned, or so Vincent had always thought it to be. Fitting, he supposed, that he should hear in its forlorn rhythms a bitter reflection of his own heart.

So engrossed had he become in the winter wind's haunting melody that he almost didn't see the body.

The crumpled form of a young woman lay unmoving at the base of a gnarled old oak tree. Half buried in snow, the girl was soaked to the skin. Her short, dark hair lay plastered in unruly strands against her temples and forehead, and her fair skin had taken on an unhealthy bluish cast from the cold. Smears of blood stained her arm and abdomen and pooled in the snow beneath her as she lay on her side against the massive oak's wide trunk.

Vincent knelt at her side and gingerly took her swollen, broken wrist to check for a pulse. The girl's faint heartbeat fluttered erratically, like a wounded butterfly. Removing his thick outer cloak, Vincent tore strips from his crimson cape and gingerly bound the girl's wounds as best he could. It wasn't much, but it would have to do until he could get her back to town. He carefully took off her wet clothing as discreetly as he could, all the way down to the skin, and hoped that the girl's sodden garments hadn't completely robbed her of all her body heat yet. Wrapping her warmly in his cloak, Vincent gently lifted the injured girl in his arms and began to head quickly back to his companions a half mile or so behind him.

Before long, he saw the glow of Cloud's sword in the gloom ahead as the blond warrior led his companions through the woods. They kept their chocobos at a walk, as it made little sense to go any faster while still in the confines of the forest, and soon caught sight of Vincent as he made his way toward them. Cloud slowed his bird to a halt and motioned the others to do the same.

What happened? he asked grimly.

I do not know, Vincent replied. I found her lying unconscious not too far from here. She is alive but badly wounded.

Cloud dismounted to take a closer look at the girl in Vincent's arms. Her bleeding seems to have slowed a bit, but she'll still freeze to death if we don't get her back to town real fast. I don't think she has much time, maybe an hour at most.

But we are still much farther away than that, are we not?

Here, Vincent, Cloud held out the reins of his gold-feathered chocobo, take the girl and ride on ahead with Ayla. She's three times as fast as any other chocobo here, so she may be able to get you back to town in time to save the girl.

Vincent nodded and gently handed the young woman to Cloud before taking the reins and carefully mounting the chocobo. Reaching down, he took the wounded girl from his friend's grasp and set her in front of him in the saddle. Vincent brought his arms in front of her and gripped Ayla's reins firmly in his hands as he prepared to ride.

Cloud patted the chocobo's golden feathers affectionately. Ayla will get you there, Vincent. Just let her run and she'll do the rest. Bring the girl over to my place when you get to town. I'll call Tifa and make sure she knows that you're coming.

Often during the course of their journey years ago in pursuit of Sephiroth, Tifa had served as the team's field medic. Aside from the use of curative magic and items, she also knew a great deal of battlefield medicine from her martial arts training with her mentor, Zangan. At times when Vincent, Cloud and the others had run low on potions or magic, Tifa had always been able to patch them up enough to last until they could rest and resupply.

Vincent sighed gravely. I do not believe the girl will make it, but I must try to save her if I can.

Cloud replied firmly. Good luck.

Nodding grimly, Vincent rode quietly off into the night. He kept Ayla at a trot, as it would be too dangerous to let her run when the trees were still so close. A light snow began to fall as he went on, and the wind whispered softly in his ears. Keeping the reins in his good hand, he wrapped his other arm around the girl's waist and held her close to him so that she might absorb some of his body heat. Her skin felt as cold and clammy as wet clay, as though Vincent was riding with a corpse, and he wondered if the young woman wasn't already dead.

_I am losing her._

Vincent could still feel the girl's pulse, but it had grown more faint since he had found her. She couldn't have much longer to live. If only he had found her sooner. If only he hadn't spent so much time talking to Cloud. If only Ayla could have made her way faster through the trees. If only, if only The endless stream of excuses and bitter recriminations piled up inside Vincent's head, exuding an almost physical pressure as the weight of this newest of his many failures pounded relentlessly within his skull until it suddenly became too much. His fingers tightened angrily on the reins, and his eyes narrowed as something within him finally snapped.

_No! I will not let it happen! No more!_

His gaze determined, Vincent pushed Ayla into a canter and concentrated on navigating his way through the forest. He let his instincts guide him, and although at times the trees came uncomfortably close, he made his way safely through the encroaching maze. Many times, he ducked clusters of low overhanging branches, swerved away from sudden dips in the ground, and guided his mount surely over gnarled and twisted tree roots hidden in the dark.

At last, the trees began to thin as Vincent neared the edge of the woods. Once he broke free of the forest and emerged out onto the open plains, he let Ayla run full out across the snow. The great bird seemed almost to fly, her legs blurring with speed as she ran mile after endless mile tirelessly through the night. His long, dark hair whipping out wildly behind him, Vincent leaned forward lower in the saddle and tightened his firm but gentle grip on the injured girl to keep her from falling off. As his body pressed closer against hers, she stirred slightly in his arms.

Do not be afraid, he whispered, although he doubted she would hear him. Death will not take you tonight. I will not allow it.

Vincent looked up to see the lights of Icicle Inn glowing brightly on the horizon. He was going to make it. For him, there was no other choice, no further contemplation of failure. Ayla sped across the snowfields like a streak of molten gold, a bright slash of color in the dark night. The great bird seemed to outrun even the wind, leaving its despairing, mournful song far behind. Glittering in the heavens like diamonds, the stars were the only witnesses to this silent, solitary race.

He passed into the smaller, lighter woods that surrounded the town, and the welcoming yellow glow of lamps and warm fires grew nearer. Still he kept his mount at a run, knowing that every moment was crucial, that the girl's survival depended upon getting her out of the cold as soon as possible. The dark shapes of homes and shops soon became discernable as he neared the edge of town, and within a few moments, he was hurrying desperately down the snowy lanes until Tifa's home finally came into sight. Vincent pulled back on the reins as he neared the house, and Ayla at last came to a halt as Tifa and Shera emerged from the front door almost immediately.

There you are, Vincent! Tifa exclaimed in relief. Here, bring the girl inside where it's warm. Shera can put Ayla in the stable for you.

Vincent nodded. The young woman still lives, but only barely. I bound her wounds as well as I could, but I fear she may yet still succumb to them. 

I'll do what I can for her, Tifa reassured him.

Carefully releasing for a moment his grip on the girl, Vincent quickly dismounted and handed the reins to Shera before reaching up and gingerly taking the injured young woman into his arms. Her body was light enough, but because she was hurt in so many places, she proved to be a somewhat difficult burden as Vincent struggled to keep from aggravating her wounds.

He followed Tifa inside the house to the living room, where a fire burned brightly in the massive granite hearth that dominated one wall. In front of the long sofa, potions and bandages and other first aid supplies sat on the coffee table along with a stack of neatly folded thick blankets. Vincent gently laid the girl onto the carpet next to the fireplace and gingerly spread her arms out a bit to either side of her body.

She is still very cold, Vincent remarked quietly.

Tifa nodded, her eyes intent on her patient. Hand me those blankets on the table, would you? Let's see if we can get her warmed up first before I take a look at those wounds.

Of course, Vincent replied, retrieving the blankets and giving them to Tifa. Following her instructions, Vincent helped her bundle the injured girl snugly within the blankets. Before long, the young woman's body began to warm, and the color began to return to her skin. Vincent gently rubbed her arms and legs with his good hand to get the circulation going while Tifa examined the girl's injuries.

Let's see if this helps, Tifa said, withdrawing a small orb of translucent crystal that glowed with a faint green light.

Vincent waited expectantly as Tifa gazed intently at the materia orb and attempted to draw upon its magical energies to heal the girl. The curative effects of the Restore materia would help stabilize the young woman's condition and heal some of her less serious wounds. As his friend grasped the tiny orb in both hands, willing the magic to come forth, Vincent watched for the telltale green and blue sparkles of magic that would surround the girl's broken body.

Nothing happened.

Tifa stared unbelievingly at the orb. What? Come on, you stupid thing, work!

She tried once again to call forth the materia's magical energy, but the green glow within the orb sputtered weakly and died. Exchanging a worried glance with Vincent, Tifa struggled to bring forth the crystal sphere's magic, but again the cure spell failed to activate. The materia simply sat in her hands, as dead and lifeless as a lump of rock.

How odd Vincent pondered.

Tifa sighed, I guess we'll just have to do this the old-fashioned way.

She gently moved the young woman's left arm out from the blankets, and Vincent saw that the strips from his cape had grown dark red with her blood. Delicately removing the ragged strips of cloth, Tifa carefully cleaned the cuts with cold water and bound them with fresh bandages before setting the girl's broken right wrist with splints.

Turn around, Vincent, Tifa ordered.

He stared at her. For what reason?

Well, the girl's got some cracked ribs and some bad cuts just above her waist, and I'll need to wrap them, too. She'll be, um, kind of exposed while I'm doing that.

Will you not need my help? Vincent wondered, not quite understanding yet.

Tifa put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at him. Nice try, Vincent, but no. I can do this myself. Just go outside and get some more firewood, okay? It's around the back of the house next to the kitchen door. Stay out there until I tell you it's okay to come in.

As you wish, Vincent replied.

He made his way quietly through the house and out through the back door. The bitter cold he had all but forgotten since going inside once again bit at him, and although the elements did not bother him as much as they did most other people, he shivered nevertheless. His breath steamed in the air, and his boots crunched in the snow as he made his way to the woodpile nearby. As he took a few of the logs in his arms, he turned to find Shera approaching him from the direction of the stable.

How is she doing? she asked.

Tifa is still treating her wounds at this time, Vincent explained, but I believe her condition has begun to stabilize.

Shera nodded. That's good to hear. Tifa started getting things together once Cloud called her to tell her you were on your way. Elmyra's been watching Marlene over at their room at the inn, and Reeve went with Mr. Wentwood down to that old fellow's store to get some more medical supplies for Tifa. They should be back soon, I think.

Hamfast knows his granddaughter is safe? Vincent inquired.

Yes, thank goodness! Cloud called once, before you had found that girl, to tell us. When will he and Cid and the others be back?

Vincent took some more logs from the woodpile as he pondered the question. Not for another hour at least, Shera, but I do not think it will be more than two. Their chocobos are much slower than the gold one Cloud lent me.

I suppose you're right, Shera sighed, but at least they'll get home safe enough. What are you doing out here, anyway?

The girl has cracked ribs and other wounds in her chest and abdomen, and Tifa sent me outside so she could bind them. I do not fully understand why, however.

Shera chuckled. You don't? How long were you sleeping in that coffin of yours before Cloud found you, anyway? The poor girl's been through enough already tonight without you staring at her while she's being undressed.

Forgive my lack of propriety, Vincent coughed, shifting uncomfortably, for as you have pointed out, I am long out of practice with such things.

That's quite alright, Vincent. I know you don't mean any harm to her.

The back door opened, and Tifa stepped out, Vincent's cloak grasped in her hands. You can come in now, Vincent. I've got her all bandaged and bundled up again. Put the firewood in the bin next to the hearth and then take the girl upstairs for me, would you?

Of course, he nodded, following her inside.

Making his way to the living room, Vincent set the wood down in the bin and then hesitantly turned back to look at the girl. She lay wrapped snugly in the blankets once more, and Vincent noticed that during his absence her twisted ankle had been wrapped with several layers of bandages and that Tifa had slipped a pair of pajama bottoms onto the girl's legs.

Picking the young woman up as gently as he could, Vincent followed Tifa up the curving hardwood stairs to the second floor, where she led him past the first bedroom and into the second. Gingerly laying the injured girl upon the plush double bed, he made her as comfortable as possible under the covers and tucked the pillows securely beneath her head.

Vincent rested his hand lightly on the girl's shoulder for a moment as he finally got a good look at the young woman he had traveled so many miles to save. Her short, brown hair hung like strands of dark, soft silk almost to her shoulders, framing a pleasant, attractive face, and her closed eyelids were lined with short, neatly curled lashes. Small, pink lips defined her curving, delicate jaws, and her soft, round cheeks bore the faint impressions of dimples.

What's on your mind? Tifa asked softly.

Vincent didn't look up, but instead let his gaze remain for a moment on the girl. Nothing, really. It is just that, for once, I did not fail. I had thought that I would.

Tifa smiled. You saved her life. She would have frozen to death if you hadn't found her.

suppose so, he admitted.

Come on, Vincent, Tifa urged him quietly, let's go. She needs her rest.

He nodded and followed her out of the room, but not before taking a last glance at the girl. Had he really saved her? Vincent dared not hope, for hope had abandoned him long ago, but still he wondered. Cursed always to fail, or so he had believed himself to be, yet tonight had apparently shown him otherwise. Perhaps it was only a fluke, yet somehow he found himself reluctant to accept it as such.

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Vincent sighed and followed Tifa downstairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 7**  


* * *

  


  
For a long time, all she knew was darkness.

Then, a hint of awareness. Cold and wetness seeping into her bones with frigid, hungry teeth, freezing her blood in her veins. The sharp, fiery sting of pain burning fiercely throughout her body. Pain everywhere, in her wrist, ribs, ankle, arms. Something rough and uneven pressing uncomfortably against her back, digging into her spine. It felt like a tree root.

Her thoughts floundered away like errant leaves caught in an autumn wind. Time had no meaning in her semiconscious state, no sense of progression. She merely drifted, her shivering less and less until she at last lay still. Blackness ensnared her once more, and she tumbled effortlessly into merciful nothingness, the terrible pain forgotten in the midst of a deep, dreamless sleep.  


Yet, soon enough, the dreams came anyway.

* * *

  
_She stood upon a high cliff, gazing silently across the horizon. The skies roiled in agony, writhing furiously in dark, massive storms of shrieking winds and wicked bolts of blue lightning. Everywhere she looked, the heavens were scorched with red flame as though the sun itself were plummeting downward through the clouds in a hellish explosion of fiery death. Thunder rumbled furiously in her ears, and the acrid smells of ash and sulphur filled her nostrils. _

_Far below, for miles in all directions, lay the ruined plains of Centra. Rolling hills of stiff brown grass choked with jagged outcroppings of tumbled, broken rock stretched away to the distant, jagged peaks of the surrounding mountains. Far to the west, she could just make out the vast blue expanse of the sea crashing endlessly against the high cliffs._

_To the south lay the tower, wrapped in cold shadows._

_Once, in other days, it had been the sanctuary of a powerful guardian before his destruction at the hands of a mortal. Darkness shrouded it now, twisting it into a massive spike of black stone thrusting defiantly into the heavens. Something else dwelt there now. She felt its presence, shivered at the dark one's chill touch within her heart. The blackness around the tower pulsed and throbbed as though it were a living thing, its noxious breath poisoning the light, draining it away into the gloom._

_Yet the living darkness was incomplete._

_It was searching for something, a piece of itself lost long ago. She could feel its burnt, withered Hand reaching out across the world, across mountains and forests, plains and hills, grasping desperately for the midnight shard it once possessed, the very essence of its being. Nothing else mattered, only the Shadow's black heart, yet its Hand could not find it._

_Gradually, the malevolent entity became aware of her watching from afar. She stumbled backward, collapsing onto her rump as the darkness surged toward her, its black Hand outstretched. A shriek escaped her lips, her eyes widening in fear as she raised her arms in a useless attempt to defend herself from the dark one's relentless advance. Shadow and flame surrounded her, the acrid stench of smoke filling her nostrils and the heat of the fire blazing against her skin as impenetrable blackness stole away the light from her eyes and left her drowning in darkness._

—Sha'lat! Nu ethyr'nën i temarileth!—

_The voice spoke from within her, yet it was not her own. She had heard it before, in the frigid, icy waters of the lake. Now it shouted out against the encroaching blackness, defying it in a blast of pure light that nearly blinded her with its brightness. The fire and darkness receded, kept back by the shielding white glow surrounding her, until she was alone once more and her visions had faded._  


* * *

Awareness came again, briefly. She was moving, or something beneath her was moving. A cyclical rhythm of forward momentum as the wind whispered softly in her ears. Somehow, she was no longer on her side but sat upright, albeit slumped forward. Something lay against her middle, a thick and strong limb of some kind that held her securely yet gently in place. Again, there was pressure against her back, but this time it did not cause her pain. It was light, yet close, and she felt warmth within it, something she had not dared hope to ever experience again.

Do not be afraid, a voice spoke to her, a real voice, deep and resonant. A man's voice. Death will not take you tonight. I will not allow it.

The weight behind her drew nearer, and the warmth slowly began to spread from within it into her own body. She clung to the unseen man's voice, trusting his words implicitly even though she did not know who he was. Perhaps it was something in the way he spoke, in the gentle, protective way she felt him holding her, but she knew somehow, even here just below the surface of consciousness, that he would keep his promise. As she descended once more into blackness, she felt the light pressure of his arm around her waist and the warmth of his body behind hers, and she knew that she was safe.

* * *

  
The first thing she was aware of was pain. 

Bone ground excruciatingly against bone as she struggled to breathe, and from her broken wrist, a harsh, dull ache seared its way relentlessly up her arm to her shoulder. Her abdomen burned fiercely with every inhalation, making each one an agony. Only slightly less troublesome was the insistent throbbing in her sprained ankle and the raw, fiery stinging sensation across her other arm as well as the other minor cuts and bruises she had sustained in her fall.

Slowly, Ellone opened her eyes and looked around.

Tongues of orange flame danced and crackled in the small stone fireplace to her right, filling the room with warmth and the scent of slowly burning wood. By its flickering light, Ellone let her gaze wander slowly over the polished wood paneling of the walls and the light blue patterned blankets of the modest double bed in which she lay. Bound in a makeshift plaster cast, her right wrist rested easily upon a soft pillow atop the covers. Thick cloth bandages dotted with red stains covered the length of her other arm from just below her shoulder nearly all the way down to her palm, and a stack of smaller cushions gently supported her twisted left ankle.

To her right, a man sat at the side of the bed. Clad almost completely in black save for the wide band of crimson fabric that held most of his long, dark hair away from his face, he gazed intently at something just beneath Ellone's line of sight. His eyes were deep brown pools in the dim light, fierce yet also somehow gentle and tinged with some deep sadness he could not quite hide. The soft scratching of metal against wood hung in the air along with the faint smells of gun oil and leather.

You are awake, the man stated quietly, slowly looking up at her. His deep, soft voice sounded somehow familiar.

Ellone blinked, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. where am I?

Do not be afraid, he reassured her. I have brought you to the home of some friends of mine so your wounds could be treated.

found me? she wondered.

The man nodded slightly. You were lying unconscious in the snow, freezing to death.

Ellone's pained breath came in short, ragged gasps of air from within her cracked ribs, how long have have I been out?

It has been almost three hours since I first brought you here, the stranger answered.

Ellone gazed thoughtfully at him. And you you've been watching over me the whole time?

My friends and I thought it unwise to let you wake up alone in an unfamiliar place. I chose to stay with you, as it was I who found you.

Can I can I at least know your name? Ellone asked. I'd like to thank my rescuer properly if I could.

the man replied softly.

Ellone managed a small, grateful smile. Thank you, Vincent for saving me. I my name my name is Ellone.

Vincent nodded. You are welcome, Ellone.

As she came more fully awake, Ellone blinked as she realized that beneath the blankets she wore nothing but her bandages and a pair of pink pajama bottoms. She felt the gauze of her bindings against her bare skin, and although her breasts and abdomen were well covered, Ellone still blushed furiously and found herself suddenly unable to meet Vincent's gaze.

Um... where... where are my, um... my clothes? she asked tentatively.

Vincent coughed and glanced awkwardly away. you were soaked to the skin when when I found you. Forgive me, Ellone, but I had to remove them so that they would not drain your body heat any further. I tried my best to be discreet

Ellone gulped, her cheeks reddening even further. you took off my clothes? Did you did you see anything?

Your welfare was my only concern, he answered. I kept you wrapped in my cloak to keep you warm until I could get you here.

Her face flaming, Ellone sighed uncomfortably. She had begun to like Vincent even though she had only known him for a few minutes, yet now she had just discovered that he had seen her in a most embarrassing state. Perhaps it had been necessary, as he had said, to remove her garments, but Ellone still shivered, not quite able to shake the sense of violation that grasped her heart.

I have offended you, Vincent murmured, rising quietly to his feet. forgive me for any discomfort I have caused you. I will leave you now.

Ellone chided herself then for acting so foolishly and forgetting so easily the kindness he had shown her. He had saved her life, after all, and had stayed by her side for the last three hours. She had awoken to discover her wounds bound and her body beginning to warm. Ellone sighed, ashamed that she could have treated him this way after what he had done for her.

Vincent, please don't go, she pleaded, finally bringing herself to look at him again. I should be the one to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong. You you were only trying to help. I'm sorry, Vincent I'm sorry that I doubted you.

Do not be, Ellone, he replied, for your reaction is no more than I had expected. A friend of mine who lives here has left you some of her old clothing that you may change into when you can more easily move about. It was Tifa who treated your wounds when I first brought you here. I should think you will meet her in the morning along with her husband.

Ellone smiled. I look forward to it.

As Vincent settled once more into his chair, Ellone noticed for the first time the bronze prosthesis beneath his left shoulder. The metal limb caught and reflected in its burnished surface the flickering orange glow of the fire, and by its light Ellone could see that in place of flesh and blood fingers, the armored palm bore instead five sharp, curved claws.

What happened to your arm? she asked quietly.

I lost it long ago, Vincent replied, his eyes narrowing slightly as his expression darkened. It is not something I wish to discuss.

Ellone could have kicked herself. I understand, Vincent. I didn't mean to pry or anything.

You did not know, he reassured her, his gaze softening a little, and, I admit, I am not exactly what you would call normal.

Neither am I, she whispered, more to herself than to him. How many times had she wished she could have been born without her powers, that she could have had the chance to live a normal life? If it weren't for the abilities she had been cursed to bear, her family wouldn't have been torn apart when she was young. She and Squall would have grown up together in Winhill, raised by Uncle Laguna and Raine. Ellone might have been married by now, might even have had children of her own. Her power had denied her all that, however, and she was alone because of it.

Vincent looked curiously at her. What do you mean?

Oh, it it's nothing, really, Ellone stammered, surprised he had actually heard her. don't worry about it.

As you wish, he nodded. Rising again from his chair, he turned to the fireplace, where a glazed ceramic teapot emblazoned with intricate blue and white designs rested on the mantle atop an electric warmer. Vincent took the teapot and carefully poured from the spout a stream of steaming hot, dark brown liquid into a palm-sized matching teacup.

Tifa possesses some knowledge of medicine and herbs, he explained, setting the teapot back down on the warmer, so she prepared this for you before retiring for the night. The tea is of white willow bark and chamomile. It will ease the pain of your injuries and help you to relax.

Ellone smiled gratefully as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. Thank you, Vincent.

Reaching for the teacup, Ellone suddenly winced as pain shot through her arm from the deep, wicked slash along the back of her forearm where the dark hunter's blade had sliced it open. Swallowing heavily, Ellone shivered and tried not to think about that mysterious figure, but she felt again in her mind the burning pain of the being's other sword cutting across her abdomen. The two blows had come less than a second apart, and had a third one landed, Ellone knew she would have been dead.

Are you alright? Vincent asked, drawing her back to the present.

She nodded. I'm fine, it's just that it still hurts to move too much

Vincent laid his good hand lightly over hers and guided it gently to the teacup, moving slowly so as not to cause her further pain. Her fingers slid around the ceramic surface, feeling beneath her skin the warmth of the hot liquid inside, and with Vincent's careful guidance, Ellone slowly brought the tea to her lips and drank, grimacing a little at the slightly bitter flavor as some of the dark brown liquid dribbled down the side of her mouth in little rivulets.

Ellone blushed at her clumsiness, feeling more than a little foolish, and pushed the teacup away. She let go of Vincent's hand and tried to reach up toward her face, but again pain burned fiercely through her wrist and arm with each motion. Her hand dropped down heavily to rest on the blankets once more. Ellone thought about using her other arm, the broken one, but the weight of the cast proved too great for her to lift in her weakened state.

Please, allow me, Vincent offered, putting the teacup down and taking a cloth from his pocket. He dabbed lightly with the cloth at her chin and mouth, carefully wiping up all of the excess liquid. His eyes never left hers, and for a long moment all Ellone was aware of was his quiet gaze and the gentle pressure of his slender fingers brushing softly against her lips and jaw as he dried away the last of the spilled tea. Time slowed to a crawl in Ellone's mind as Vincent's reddish-brown irises held her own dark eyes, and she could almost hear her heart beating within her breast.

Abruptly, Vincent broke the contact, glancing quickly away from her for a moment and seeming to find sudden interest in the fire. As he pulled his hand back from her mouth, Ellone finally remembered to breathe. She continued, however, to gaze at him, at his long wisps of straight, black hair and the firelight reflecting softly in his eyes.

Ellone blinked and looked awkwardly away, her cheeks reddening slightly as she suddenly realized what she had been doing. What had she been thinking, staring at him like that? Fortunately, he seemed not to have noticed, absorbed as he was in the task of carefully placing the teacup back on the mantle atop a little round saucer next to the teapot. As he sat down again in his chair, he withdrew from his pocket a carving knife and a small, partially shaped block of wood.

What's that you're doing? Ellone wondered.

Vincent glanced thoughtfully at the wood for a moment before finally meeting her gaze. I have been carving this while you slept. It helps to pass the time.

Ellone smiled a little, fascinated. She loved arts and crafts, although she possessed little skill in making such things. What's it going to be?

I am not yet certain, he murmured. It is still taking form, after all.

So you make it up as you go? she asked curiously.

Vincent nodded. In a manner of speaking. Usually I find the shape hidden somewhere in the wood, awaiting its release. I have just begun working with this particular piece tonight, although I do not know what it will become when it is complete.

Sounds like fun, Ellone replied warmly. She had always liked collecting assorted little knickknacks and artworks, from oil paintings and woodcarvings to hand-sewn quilts and other various crafts and antiques. Many such items decorated her small home back in Winhill, adding a quaint and cozy touch to every room in the house.

I suppose I do take some small pleasure in it, Vincent admitted.

Ellone smiled again. Well, I'm sure it'll turn out fine, whatever it is.

I do not share your confidence, he replied, but I thank you for it anyway. You should try to get some rest, Ellone. I will remain here should you need anything.

She nodded and leaned as comfortably as she could back against the pillows. Her body still hurt all over, but not quite so much now thanks to the tea Vincent had given her. Weariness filled her aching bones as she lay beneath the covers and began to drift off, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind as her eyelids grew heavy and began to close.

Ellone figured that she would find a way to contact Squall in the morning to let him know she was okay. He would no doubt be upset with her for going off on her own and nearly getting herself killed, but she thought she could handle that well enough. After what she had been through, she would be glad just to see him and Uncle Laguna and the others again.

Yet something nagged at her, something small yet important that Selphie had told her once, and that now filled her with unease. Selphie, who had lived in the Trabia region for much of her life, had mentioned to Ellone that besides the people from Trabia Garden, only moombas, chocobos, and Shumis lived this far north. Because of the harsh climate, there were no other human settlements.

_If that's true,_ Ellone wondered, _then where am I?_

She struggled to wake, to ask Vincent, but fatigue was fast claiming her. She was suddenly aware of Vincent leaning close to her, and she shivered, suddenly afraid. Her fears proved groundless, however, for he simply reached in and gently tucked her blankets close around her shoulders to help her keep warm. Ellone let her eyes open a little, and she smiled briefly up at him in thanks.

He nodded quietly, without a word, and sat back down in his chair. Soon the soft scraping of metal against wood once more filled the air as he resumed his carving, and Ellone let her eyes slide completely shut. Wherever she might be now, she was safe. As her breathing became more regular and the pain faded to a dull ache in her mind, she let sleep take her at last.

* * *

—We meet again—

The feminine voice she recognized but could not name. It spoke to Ellone once more, in the dreamless depths of her slumbering mind. Again she strove to remember who spoke to her, to understand its unsettling familiarity, yet once more her memory failed to provide her with answers. They seemed to hover maddeningly out her reach, just beyond the grasp of her mental fingers.

_Who are you?_ she wondered.

—You'll learn that in time, but for now you must rest and recover your strength—

_I'll try but I'm afraid those dreams will come back_

—The dreams will not trouble you again tonight. I've seen to that—

_How? What what did you say before in my dream?_

—The words and what they mean are not important right now. For a moment, I was able to break through the shroud the dark one has over you. The power of the Enemy is great, and it is growing even stronger. I cast Him from your mind for now, although I'm afraid He'll try to return as soon as He can. Unfortunately, you are of great interest to Him—

_W-What?_ Her heart lurched in her breast. _Why? Why me?_

—You know why—

Of course she did. There could be no other reason, really. _My power_

—There is far more to it than you know. Your true power is at last beginning to wake, and the dark one fears you because of it. He fears what you may yet become. Beware of his emissary, the dark hunter that pursues you. Your power threw it off for a time, but it will not be so easily deterred. It will come for you, sooner or later—

_What do you mean? Who is He? What does He want with me? What am I supposed to do?_

—My time grows short, and the great Shadow is lengthening. I can give you no more answers now, but I will reach you again—

_Wait! Don't go! There's still so much I don't understand!_

But the voice was gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 8**  


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Ellone woke to pale morning sunlight streaming softly into the room from the window to her left. Beyond the thick glass panes, snow drifted lightly down in a sprinkling of white flurries, and from the eaves hung long daggers of ice that glistened wetly with moisture. Outside the window, a few vibrant evergreens clustered together some yards away amidst the bare skeletons of maples and oaks whose leaves had long since fallen to winter's touch.

Blinking a few times to clear the last vestiges of sleep from her eyes, Elle stretched a little and winced as pain suddenly struck her like a physical blow. Vincent's tea must have worn off sometime in the night, she decided. Her wrist and ankle throbbed with a dull ache, and the slashes across her arm and abdomen burned like fire. Elle wondered briefly how her insides had kept from falling out when the creature had cut across the side of her belly, but then she decided she didn't really want to know. She was alive, after all, and that was all that mattered.

Easy, easy, a female voice told her softly, don't strain yourself. You shouldn't try to move around too much just yet.

Ellone looked up to see a young woman, perhaps her own age, bending quietly over her and carefully checking the cast on her wrist. The woman brushed a few long strands of raven dark hair from her soft, chocolate brown eyes and smiled warmly at her patient before returning to her task. Elle found that she liked her almost immediately.

You must be Tifa, Elle surmised.

The woman nodded. That's me. How did you know?

Vincent told me last night that you were the one who bound up my wounds, Elle answered, and that I'd meet you in the morning.

Tifa finished her inspection and sat down on the edge of the bed. Well, it looks like he was right. So you've met him already, then?

I woke up for a little bit last night, and he was there, Ellone replied. She glanced worriedly about, noticing for the first time that Vincent was gone. His chair sat vacant next to the bed, and the fire burned low in the hearth. The teapot, however, still sat atop the mantle with the cup and saucer in the same place Ellone had seen it in last night when Vincent had put it there.

Where is he? she asked curiously.

Tifa smiled wryly. I sent him out so you could have a little privacy while I work on your bandages. Some of them need to be changed, including the ones over your ribs. I didn't think you'd want him to watch while I did that, though.

Her cheeks flushing a little, Elle managed a slightly embarrassed smile. Um, no that would be, um a bit awkward. What do you need me to do?

Just lie still and relax, Tifa instructed her, and I'll handle the rest. What's your name, by the way?

Elle replied.

Tifa nodded, rising to her feet once again, and smiled. Nice to meet you, Ellone, and good morning. Did you sleep well?

More or less, Elle answered. She wasn't used to sleeping entirely on her back the whole night, as she normally lay on her side or stomach when she slept, but under the circumstances Elle supposed she had gotten as good a rest as was possible. With her injuries, she had been unable to move much during the night without the pain flaring up inside her, and even when lessened by the herbal tea, it had still caused Ellone much discomfort if she tried to shift her body around even a little.

The other woman smiled and patted her shoulder  
reassuringly. Don't worry, Elle. You'll be sore for a while, but those wounds of yours should start to heal within a few days. 

You'll be back on your feet again before you know it.

Rising to her feet, Tifa made her way around to the other side of the bed and carefully began to remove the bloodstained bandages from Ellone's left arm. She hummed quietly to herself as she worked, gently peeling off the strips of cloth one by one until the arm lay bare on the covers. Elle gasped in spite of herself when she saw the deep, ugly slash running along the outside of her forearm amidst some smaller cuts and bruises. Her stomach swirled lazily within her, and she hurriedly looked away. Gentle by nature, Ellone had never quite been able to stand the sight of blood, especially her own.

It's pretty bad, Tifa murmured, almost to the bone. The stitches seem to be holding it together well enough, but it'll be a while even with potions before it heals completely.

Ellone frowned in puzzlement. I thought potions and things like that were supposed to cure wounds almost instantly.

No, no, Tifa answered, taking a bottle of iodine and some clean bandages from the top of the dresser nearby, but that's a common misconception. All they really do is accelerate what your body already does on its own when it grows new cells to replace damaged ones. Basically, potions and magic help reduce how long it takes for your body to heal, from about half the time with potions and lesser cure spells to maybe a quarter of the time with elixirs and more powerful cure spells.

Elle nodded as she began to understand. So, for example, if it would normally take six weeks for a broken bone to heal, then with potions it would only take three?

That's right, and with an elixir it would be more like a week and a half. But elixirs and cure spells that powerful are pretty rare and hard to find, so most of the time we just use potions. You don't want to take too many at once, though, because that would make you sick.

Why is that? Ellone asked curiously.

Tifa pursed her lips in thought as she wiped away the excess blood from Elle's arm. Speeding up the healing process that rapidly in such a short time can confuse your body and cause it to grow too many new cells or too few, not grow any at all or even kill existing ones. It's always best to use potions and magic moderately and in combination with traditional medicine. There's really no such thing as instant healing, no matter how powerful the magic might be.

An image suddenly came into Ellone's mind, a recent and uneasy memory. She saw herself, reaching intently across the cafeteria table to her brother, her fingertips resting along the scar on his forehead. The small yet blindingly bright flash of white light, and her brother's newly healed, unmarred skin where the wound had once been. Squall, staring at her as he would a stranger as he reached up and felt the miraculously healed flesh for himself.

Are you alright? Tifa's concerned voice abruptly jolted Ellone back to the present. You got a little pale there all of a sudden.

Ellone shook her head. I'm fine, Tifa. Don't worry about it.

Carefully taking Ellone's injured arm in one hand, Tifa lightly daubed some of the iodine onto the open wound with a cotton swab. I'm afraid this'll sting a bit, Ellone, but it'll help keep your injuries from being infected. It won't hurt too bad, though.

I'll be alright, Elle assured her, grimacing slightly as she did so.

Wrapping the wound with clean bandages, Tifa made her way around to the other side of the bed and carefully removed the stained cloths covering the right side of Elle's abdomen. The slash there wasn't quite so deep as the one on her arm, but to Elle it still looked nasty enough. Tifa treated that cut as well, daubing a measure of iodine onto it and binding it once more.

Now I just need to see about your ribs, she commented, and that should be it.

Elle blushed a little and nodded as Tifa pulled the covers down to her waist and slowly unwound the bindings from her breasts and ribcage until Ellone's bruised chest lay bare. Her breathing came a little easier now, although it still sounded ragged in her ears, and the cracks in her ribs still ground painfully together with each strained inhalation.

How did you get so banged up, if you don't mind my asking? Tifa inquired. Probing gingerly with her fingers, she carefully examined Elle's cracked ribs, finding the small, rounded bumps along the side of her chest where the bone had fractured. After rubbing some cinnamon scented balm into Elle's skin for the pain, Tifa bound her chest with clean bandages and pulled the covers back up.

I I got lost riding my chocobo, Ellone swallowed nervously, the hellish memories of last night's attack suddenly vivid in her mind, she fell down a hill in the dark, and and I was thrown off. Someone something was chasing me it it tried to kill me

Ellone's voice quivered with remembered fear, her blood becoming ice in her veins as the nightmarish visage of the dark hunter flashed in her mind. Her own terror-stricken face, eerily reflected in the menacing figure's stainless steel mask as it had loomed ominously over her with its wicked blades. Cloaked in shadows and voluminous ebony robes, the fell being had stalked her mercilessly, watching her with its dead, empty eyes. Those hollow sockets had since haunted her sleep, twin chasms of utter blackness boring relentlessly into her very soul.

Suddenly, Ellone felt a comforting hand briefly take hers as Tifa gazed at her with concern. It's alright, Elle, you're safe now. We won't let anything hurt you.

Thank you, Ellone smiled gratefully.

Tifa gazed at her sympathetically for a moment. It must have been terrifying.

It was, Elle agreed, a shiver suddenly working its way down her spine, I thought I thought I was going to die out there

What happened? the other woman asked gently.

Ellone sighed wearily. No, I I don't want to talk about it just yet. I'm sorry

It was one thing to talk about her ill-fated ride, but despite Tifa's kindness in taking her in and treating her injuries, Ellone couldn't bring herself to speak yet of her powers. She had in the war gained a certain amount of infamy due to Ultimecia's worldwide search for her. Entire cities had been threatened with destruction had Ellone been found hiding within them, and it was she that was responsible for initiating the time compression that had nearly destroyed the world.

Feared and respected, that's what she was now. The silent, accusing stares of passersby often haunted her steps, and even in Winhill, where Ellone had been born and was more well known, few people associated with her any more than was necessary. She had grown accustomed to being alone, to being an outcast. When she had left the White SeeD ship for the last time, after Ultimecia's defeat, Elle had thought she would at last be free. However, she had all too soon discovered that she had merely exchanged one kind of prison for another.

What would Tifa think of her if she ever knew? What would Vincent think? Yet neither seemed to have recognized her name when Ellone had hesitantly introduced herself. It was almost too much to hope for, yet they honestly seemed not to know who she was. She wanted to trust them, embrace the friendship they seemed to be offering her, yet fear held her back. If they learned the truth, would they hate her, eye her with the same mistrust that so many others did? Ellone didn't think Tifa and Vincent would do that, but neither could she dislodge the fear and self-loathing that festered deep in her heart.

I understand, Tifa reassured her, bringing Elle back from her dark thoughts. You don't have to say any more than you want to.

Elle nodded. It's just too hard right now, and I I don't feel so good.

Since waking up this morning, Ellone had felt a touch of queasiness in her belly as her stomach rolled lazily inside her. Although talking with Tifa had distracted her from it for a while, Elle could no longer ignore the nausea swirling within her and the fierce burning inside that left her fair skin flushed red and dotted with drops of sweat.

Looking at her with concern, Tifa leaned close and pressed her palm lightly against Ellone's forehead. I [i]thought[/i] you looked a little green. Looks like you've got a bit of fever, Elle. Probably from the shock of your wounds and from being out in the cold for so long. It should pass by the end of the day, though, once your body temperature has stabilized. I'll go downstairs and fix you up some chicken broth to eat in the meantime, if you'd like.

At the mention of food, Elle's stomach grumbled sullenly, and she suddenly remembered that she hadn't eaten hardly anything since having breakfast with Squall in the Garden cafeteria early yesterday morning. She had nibbled a little fruit while riding Starlight that afternoon before getting lost, but her unease about her changing powers had greatly diminished her appetite.

That would be nice, Ellone agreed, I guess I am kind of hungry, now that you mention it.

Tifa nodded and rose to her feet. I'll be back in a few minutes, then.

For the first time, Elle noticed the bulge in her new friend's abdomen. She hadn't been able to see it too well before, what with Tifa bending over and sitting with her for a while as she had talked with her and checked her bandages. Now that Tifa stood fully upright, however, her rounded belly was clearly visible, and Ellone suddenly understood.

Tifa, are you are you expecting?

The other woman responded with a shy smile and glanced briefly downward, putting a hand affectionately over her enlarged abdomen. Um, yes I'm pregnant. About six months now, I think. It's weird, but wonderful at the same time.

Elle replied warmly.

Thank you, Elle, Tifa replied. I have to admit I'm kinda nervous about it, you know? The whole motherhood thing and all.

Ellone managed a small smile of her own. I'm sure you'll do just fine, Tifa.

I hope so. Cloud and I, we have a goddaughter that we look after sometimes, but this is the first baby that's our very own. We've been trying for a long time to have a child. I I miscarried once, a few years ago, and I thought maybe I just couldn't do it.

But you did, Elle gently reminded her, so there's no reason to be afraid now, right?

Tifa sighed. That's true, but I'm still scared, Elle. Until I hold my baby in my arms, I think I always will be. I'm trying to eat right, exercise, not strain myself—all those sorts of things you're supposed to do when you're pregnant—but I can't help wondering sometimes if something won't still go wrong. I don't want to lose this baby.

You won't, Tifa. Everything will be fine, you'll see.

I suppose you're right, Tifa admitted, and I'm probably just getting myself worked up over nothing. Well, anyway, why don't you just relax here for a little bit while I go downstairs and see about that food I mentioned earlier. I won't be too long.

Elle nodded. 

Gathering up the rest of her first aid supplies and the dirty bandages, Tifa opened the door and left, her brisk footfalls clearly audible on the hardwood floor. Ellone lay quiet in her bed, alone for the first time since her rescue the previous night. Glancing out the window, she saw that sometime since she had awoken, the snow had finally stopped falling, and whiteness covered the entire hillside in a frigid blanket that must have been at least several inches deep.

Once again, Ellone wondered where she was. She supposed that maybe the town she was in might be just a small settlement somewhere in Trabia, of little note to the larger world and as such not included in most maps of the region. Yet even so, she couldn't entirely convince herself of that theory. Her hometown of Winhill was itself barely more than a quaint, rustic village, but she knew that it could easily be found on any map of the Galbadian continent.

Ellone sighed uneasily and waited for her friend to return.

  


* * *

  
So why don't you try and tell us what happened, Ellone, if you think you're up to it, the blond-haired young man told her. 

Elle swallowed nervously but nodded, knowing that the only way she would get back home was to trust these people that had helped her. It was, after all, the least she could do after the kindnesses they had shown her. She glanced slowly about the room, gradually taking in the faces of the individuals who had gathered around her early this afternoon.

His expression distant and unreadable, Vincent stood quietly to one side of the bed next the fire burning brightly in the stone hearth. Tifa sat nearby in the cushioned, polished wood chair that Vincent had occupied the night before, and the young woman's husband, Cloud, stood just behind his wife, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. Their wedding bands glittered softly with reflected firelight, and Elle struggled to suppress a sudden and unexpected surge of jealousy and loneliness.

Elle shook off those uncomfortable emotions as best she could and brought her attention to two more individuals she had just now met. An older man, his chin rough with stubble and an unlit cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth, leaned casually against the wall next to the door, a pair of flight goggles nestled in his short-cropped blond hair. On the other side of the room sat one of the most outlandish creatures Ellone had ever seen—a fierce, pantherlike beast with fiery reddish fur and a tail with a small flame burning at the tip. The strange being named Red had startled her almost to death when she had first heard him speak, and even now she found herself astonished at his exceptional intelligence.

There had been a few others that Elle had heard and seen a little of earlier, before they had left to return to their homes. That wiry girl Yuffie had skipped in and out for a minute, and her bright personality had reminded Elle almost instantly of Selphie, although there had been a brashness in Yuffie's demeanor that the other girl did not possess. The big, dark-skinned man with the gun-arm had looked to Elle to be nearly as big as Ward, and with his wife and little girl at his side, Barret had stopped in briefly before flying off home somewhere with the bearded businessman and the woman with the spectacles.

I'll do what I can, Ellone murmured, what I have to say it may be hard for you to believe. I know I'm still trying to figure it out myself

Tifa nodded encouragingly. It's okay, Elle. We've seen our share of strange things ourselves, so don't worry. We'll believe you.

Thank you, Elle replied softly. Taking a sip of the herbal tea to help soothe her nerves and quiet the ache in her bones, she slowly gathered her thoughts and began to speak. She started with getting lost in the snowstorm, when she had lost track of her direction in the whitish haze of constant flurries, and as she talked, she shivered slightly with remembered cold despite the warmth of the fire nearby. Elle began to see again in her mind the vivid and unsettling memories of that fateful evening, the quiet as the storm had finally slackened and twilight had slowly deepened around her into starless night.

She continued her narration, taking her listeners with her and telling them of the dark hunter that had pursued her across the frozen plains. Elle shuddered inwardly at the memory of its fell, eyeless gaze upon her, and at the cold apathy that had flowed from behind that steel mask. The two blades, twin shards of black metal cutting effortlessly into her flesh in a rapid blur of motion. She said nothing of the voice from the lake or of her own strange dreams, however.

And then what happened? Tifa asked softly, bringing Elle gently back to the present.

Ellone shook the dark memories aside with a visible effort. I'm not sure, exactly. It was like something exploded inside me, power of some kind, and and it threw back that thing before it could kill me. I lost consciousness after that, and then woke up here.

Glancing around tentatively at the faces of her listeners, Ellone saw puzzlement and quiet uncertainty reflected in their features. Did they believe her? She hoped so, but couldn't be sure. Now that she thought about it, Elle wondered if, had she been in their position, she would have believed what they had just been told, but she honestly didn't know.

I know it's strange and hard to believe, she insisted, but I'm telling the truth.

No one's saying you aren't, Cloud assured her, it's just that we're trying to figure this thing out. Some of what you've told us it doesn't quite add up, I'm afraid.

Elle frowned in puzzlement. What do you mean?

Well, for one thing, you said you fell into a lake, right? But there aren't any lakes around here close enough to where we found you. Creeks and streams, yes, but nothing bigger than that. Are you sure it was a lake you fell into?

I know it was, Elle answered firmly.

Cloud nodded. Alright, then. There's another thing that's bothering me, though. The last place you said you remember being before waking up here was out on that lake, but Vincent found you in the woods, lying at the base of a tree.

how could I have ended up there? Elle asked.

I don't know, Cloud shrugged, I was hoping you could tell us.

A vivid and powerful memory suddenly flashed through Ellone's mind as she realized the only possible explanation, or at least a part of it. The power flowing hotly in her veins, a brilliant nova of white fire streaking across the frozen lake in all directions, hurling the dark hunter across the snow. Whiteness consuming Ellone's consciousness as her surroundings had blurred and dissolved around her in the midst of the overwhelming brightness.

My power, it it must have brought me here somehow, Elle murmured, I don't even know where here is

You're in Icicle Inn, Tifa explained.

Ellone stared at her in bewilderment. 

Icicle Inn, the other woman repeated patiently. Don't you know this place at all?

No, I don't, Elle shook her head, I'm not from around here. Is it very far from Trabia Garden? That's where I was trying to get back to when I got lost in the storm.

Now it was Tifa's turn to stare in confusion. A garden? In this weather? Nothing grows in winter, you know. I'm afraid I don't understand.

Oh, not that kind of garden. I was talking about the military school, you know? Trabia Garden?

Tifa shook her head. I'm sorry, but I don't know. I've never heard of such a place before, let alone one up here in the mountains.

Hardly able to believe what she had just heard, Ellone looked at her friend in wonder. The elite military schools where SeeDs were trained were generally known worldwide, especially after the events of the second Sorceress War just two years ago. Even the most ignorant or secluded individuals knew at least of the existence of the Gardens and the SeeD forces they trained. Perhaps this place was more isolated than Elle had previously thought.

Do you have a map or something that I could see? Elle suggested. I might be able to show you where Trabia Garden is.

Cloud thought for a moment, then nodded. That might work. I know I have one lying around here somewhere

It's in the den, Tifa told him matter-of-factly.

How do you know? he asked.

She looked up at him with a wry smile. Because I spent almost an hour the other day cleaning up the mess you left in there. You always clutter it up, you know. The map is in the top left desk drawer, Cloud. Just go get it and bring it here, okay?

Yes, dear, Cloud replied dryly.

After he had gone, the older man near the door—Elle remembered his name was Cid, although he could not have been less like the polite Garden headmaster who bore the same name—chuckled in mild amusement. Seems like you got Spike pretty well trained, Tif.

He's good to have around, she agreed.

The gruff, blond-haired pilot grinned and nodded knowingly. I'll bet.

Moments later, Cloud returned with the map and spread it open on the bed for Elle to look at. Do you think you can find this Garden of yours?

I'll try, Elle replied, but I think—

The words died in her throat as she gazed unbelievingly at the map. What it showed her was not the world she remembered. The formations of land and sea, continents and oceans, were vastly different from the places she knew. None of the names were familiar, not one single place, except for where she now was. Icicle Inn, she saw, lay high in the mountains of a northern continent not at all like Trabia save for the similarities in climate.

Cloud seemed to notice her unease. What's wrong?

Are you sure this is the right one? she asked worriedly.

It is, Ellone, he answered, I'm sure of it.

She shook her head in confusion. but this can't be right! Where are Esthar and Balamb, and Winhill? Trabia and FH and Galbadia aren't there either. And the land and water and everything are all wrong, too. I don't understand

A most perplexing mystery, indeed, the panther beast called Red observed pensively, for I am afraid, young lady, that we none of us are familiar with these places you have spoken of. We do not doubt your sincerity, but something else is amiss here.

Ellone sighed wearily. what do I do? How am I supposed to get home?

We'll find a way, Tifa reassured her, Don't you worry about that, Elle. Just concentrate on getting back on your feet for now.

I suppose I can do that, at least, Elle replied.

From his place near the fire, Vincent look up, his expression dark. Ellone may not have as much time as we may think, Tifa. This creature that tried to kill her, it may attempt to do so again should it find her. She should not be left unprotected.

For a moment, the terrible visage of the dark hunter filled Ellone's mind. She had no desire to encounter that creature ever again, yet until now she had never considered the chilling possibility that the mysterious being might still be pursuing her. Suddenly, she was very glad that despite the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, she was not alone.

Would you stay with her, Vincent? Tifa asked. I have to admit, I'm not exactly in fighting condition, and Cloud is usually out on his patrols all day most of the time. He has to be out there to keep the monsters from getting too close to town.

Vincent shook his head. do not believe I would be a good choice, Tifa. Failure has haunted me too many times, I am afraid. I would not risk it again.

Are you sure? she asked quietly.

The grim-faced man nodded slowly. I am certain.

Ellone pleaded softly, you saved my life. Whatever else you may have done, you haven't failed me yet, and I don't think you ever will. I I would feel better with you here, if anything does happen. Please stay. For me

Very well, he sighed at last.

Elle smiled gratefully at him. Thank you, Vincent.

Despite the grim demeanor with which Vincent carried himself, Ellone knew he would do everything in his power to keep her safe should her dark pursuer come after her. She wondered briefly what had happened in his life to cause him to look at things in such a dour, pessimistic way, but she decided that if he wanted her to know then he would tell her in his own time. Having spent most of her life being sought after for what she was, for something that had always been a very close and personal part of her identity, Ellone had come to value her privacy and to respect that of others.

For the first time since finding herself here in this strange place, Ellone felt a sense of calm and relief wash over her. Perhaps it was because that, despite her circumstances, she was not alone. These people, Cloud and Tifa, had befriended her and generously taken her in until she could find her way back to where she had come from. Cid and Red were due to leave soon to return to their homes, but Vincent would remain by her side. And somehow that comforted Ellone most of all.


	9. Chapter 9

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

You can now view the offical Point of Intersection poster graphic at - a real visual treat! ^_^  
  


* * *

**CHAPTER 9**  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: This chapter contains some fairly graphic scenes. Proceed at your own risk.  


  
"Damn," Zell swore, "this really sucks…"

The blond martial artist clenched his fist as he gazed at the wreckage around him. Along the shores of Dollet, the shattered wrecks of the four SeeD gunships still burned, the acrid stenches of smoke and scorched metal filling Zell's nostrils along with the strong scent of brine from the restless waters of the sea. Anger began to build in him as he thought of what must have happened, as he remembered Xu's final desperate transmission.

Nearby stood Squall, expressionless as he surveyed the devastation in uneasy silence. He looked to Zell almost like the Squall of old, the moody and distant young man encased in a cold shell tougher than steel. And yet Rinoa, of all people, had somehow found a way to penetrate that shell. With her help, he had begun to trust other people again, to value the friendship of those around him. Now he was faced with losing not only Rinoa, but also his adopted sister, Ellone, on the very same day. Zell wondered if the strain would prove too much for his friend to handle.

Worry for both women gnawed at the blond martial artist relentlessly, but he knew it had to be far worse for Squall, who was much closer to them than Zell was. To him, Rinoa was a good friend, someone he'd fought alongside countless times during the war. Zell also prided himself on playing at least a small part in bringing her and Squall together, and as a result, he was always quick to defend the couple's relationship even as he marveled that it seemed to be working out so well.

Zell's memories of Ellone from the days in the orphanage were hazy at best, obscured by the passage of time and the intrusion of the guardian forces within his mind. But he did recall a kind face, comforting him sometimes after Seifer's ruthless taunting had left little Zell in tears. More often, though, he would see her spending time with Squall, the quiet boy who clung to her so closely and so fiercely as though his life depended upon her staying in close proximity to him.

It was no wonder, Zell thought, that his friend had shut everyone out of his life after Ellone had left the orphanage so abruptly.

Kicking the sand in frustration, Zell sighed irritably. "What now?"

"We meet up with three Garden personnel, as per Headmaster Cid's orders, then head over to the comm tower and find what survivors we can," Squall replied grimly.

"But, uh… how do we know who they are?" Zell asked.

Squall shrugged. "We'll know. Cid told us to meet them here on the beach, so whoever comes out here is bound to be our contact."

"Are you sure?" Quistis asked. "Perhaps we should go to the tower now. If there are survivors there, they may need medical attention."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose where his scar had once lain, Squall sighed. "Fine. If they don't come in five minutes, we'll go to the tower without them."

Zell nodded, still not quite able to get used to seeing Squall without his distinctive scar. From what his friend had told him and the others, Ellone had somehow healed the scar with her power the morning she had disappeared. The blond martial artist had never quite gotten to know Ellone that well since growing up and only vaguely understood what her power was capable of. He had experienced it himself during the war, when she had sent him with Squall and Quistis back into dreamlike visions of the past to help her change what had happened in that time.

They hadn't succeeded, and Zell had always felt a little bad about that, as though he had let Ellone down somehow. He knew, though, that she would never blame anyone for it. Indeed, she seemed to have accepted it with the same optimism that she did everything else in her life. But even Zell could see that she wasn't quite as happy as she made herself out to be. And now she might be gone forever, lost to the frigid snows of Trabia. Zell angrily tried to push the thought from his mind, to deny its inevitable truth, but it stubbornly refused to let go.

A glum sigh escaped Zell's lips as he waited impatiently for whomever it was they were supposed to meet. He, Squall, and Quistis had scoured what debris they could, searching for any sign that somebody might still be alive somehow. So far, however, they had found none, not even the bodies of the dead that should have still been in the wreckage of the ruined gunships. Even Zell knew that couldn't be right. Although he was not normally prone to premonition, he couldn't shake the sense of unease that had gripped him since first arriving here.

Shading his eyes from the morning sunlight that glinted across the tops of the waves crashing ceaselessly against the sand, Zell gazed up and down the shore but saw no one yet other than himself, Squall, and Quistis. Selphie and Irvine had stayed aboard the Ragnarok and would meet them at the tower to pick up any survivors that Zell and the others found there. The martial artist only hoped there were still survivors left for them to find.

Although here in Dollet it was almost midmorning, Zell couldn't help but feel it should have been much later in the day. He supposed it was just the aftereffects of the long flight from Trabia halfway across the world, where night was falling over the frozen plains. Nine hours cooped up in the Ragnarok had done him little good, and even flying the ship himself for a while to give Selphie a break hadn't entirely helped alleviate his restlessness. It was the waiting that Zell hated, the feeling of helplessness that while he had been confined within the Ragnarok's metal bulkheads thousands of feet in the air, his friends in Dollet were being injured, possibly even killed.

Zell angrily threw a few punches in the air, as though physically striking at the unease, the sense of wrongness about the mission, which plagued him. It was too quiet here, he thought. The only sounds the blond young man could hear were the crashing of the waves against the sand and the shrill calls of a few seagulls wheeling about. The city above and behind him lay eerily silent, and Zell realized that the Galbadian radicals must have deported the population somewhere when they had taken control.

The crunching of footsteps in the sand brought Zell abruptly out of his thoughts as he realized that the Garden personnel he and his friends were to meet must have finally arrived. He sensed Quistis stiffening beside him and turned to look in the direction she was staring, but for a moment, the glare of the sunlight blocked his view. When he did finally see who was coming, however, Zell clenched his fists tightly and felt his blood begin to boil within his veins.

"Well, well, well," sneered a voice Zell had hoped he would never hear again, "I should've guessed that Headmaster Cid would send you guys here to meet us."

"What the hell are you doing here, Seifer?" Zell growled, immediately bringing his fists up.

His longtime antagonist, flanked by his two inseparable companions Fujin and Raijin, ran a hand through his short-cropped blond hair and smirked sarcastically. "Nice to see some old friends. It's been a while, hasn't it, chicken-wuss?"

"Shut up!" Zell snapped.

"Care to make me?" the other man scoffed.

Zell clenched his fists tighter. "I will if I have to!"

"Enough!" Squall stepped between the two men, Quistis at his side. "We don't have time for this! Answer his question, Seifer."

It was Raijin who spoke first. "Cid sent us here from Balamb, ya know? To help ya get Rinoa and the rest of your people back."

"Cid sent you to help us?" Quistis asked, sharing disbelieving stares with Squall and Zell. "No wonder he never told us who we were to meet…"

"AFFIRMATIVE," Fujin confirmed, speaking as always in harsh, succinct tones. The gray-haired young woman stared impassively at Zell and the others with her good eye, the other covered by a patch of dark cloth. No one to Zell's knowledge had ever heard how she had lost her other eye, and Fujin herself had never been a talkative sort of person to begin with.

Zell narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "So why are you guys all of a sudden on our side, anyway?"

"The war's over, chicken-wuss, or had you forgotten?" Seifer shot back. "Anyway, me and the posse have been the headmaster's covert eyes in Galbadia since the end of the war. Why do you think we got off so easy after that tribunal he put us through?"

"Doesn't look like you did a very good job!" Zell snapped. "If you're really what you say you are, then where were you when our people were attacked last night? If you knew those Galbadians had a trap ready, why didn't ya say anything?"

Seifer bulled his way past Squall and grabbed Zell by the arm. "We didn't find out until Xu and the team were already here, chicken-wuss! By that time, the Galbadians were jamming all the communications channels. Nothing could get in or out."

"Then Xu's transmission must have slipped through at the last minute," Quistis observed, "and probably only barely, considering how garbled and broken up it was."

"Where are the Galbadians now?" Squall asked.

Seifer let go of Zell and backed up, squarely meeting his old rival's level gaze. "I don't know. We only just got here ourselves."

"Took your sweet time about it," Zell muttered darkly.

"Well excuse me if the trains aren't as fast as your spaceship, chicken-wuss," Seifer retorted coldly. "We got here as fast as we could."

The blond martial artist glared at the other man suspiciously. "Well, don't start thinkin' we're gonna trust you just yet, Seifer."

"Like I care," the former knight quipped snidely. "Just stay out of my way."

His eyes narrowing, Zell fought to keep himself composed. How he [i]hated[/i] this man! Seifer could always find a way to get under Zell's skin, had done it since they were both children in Edea's orphanage so long ago. No matter how hard he tried, Zell couldn't help reacting to his longtime antagonist's ceaseless jibes and taunting remarks, and the excitable young man hated himself sometimes because of it and wished he could learn to not let Seifer get to him so much.

Zell started to reply, but Squall shook his head. "Don't, Zell. He's not worth it."

Nodding, the martial artist sighed and took a step back, though he would have liked nothing better than to see how far he could push his fist through Seifer's smug face. Fitting payback, he supposed, for all those years of verbal torment he had endured. He doubted anyone would blame him, but maybe Squall was right. In any case, Zell knew that now was hardly the time to worry about it.

His blue-gray eyes glinting like chips of ice, Squall stared fiercely at his old rival. "Remember, Seifer, [i]I[/i] am in command here, and I expect you to follow my orders until this is over. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Leader!" Seifer sneered, making a mocking salute as he did so. "So, how'd you manage to fix up that scar I gave ya?"

Squall grimaced, his hand going reflexively to his forehead to touch the scar that was no longer there. "It's none of your business, Seifer. Just forget about it."

"Why should I?" the other man asked, running a gloved hand over his own wound, a scar that mirrored the one that Squall had possessed before Ellone had so mysteriously healed it.

"It's not important right now," Squall replied coldly, "and even if it were, I wouldn't tell you anyway."

Seifer glared irritably at his rival. "Oh, I get it. You still think I'm the enemy, right? Well, you just watch out, Mr. Leader, 'cause I can give you another scar anytime I feel like it."

"Bring it, Seifer," Squall countered. "At least I can still look myself in the mirror every morning, with or without a scar."

Apparently, Squall's comment had somehow struck a nerve, because Seifer sighed angrily and turned away, his trademark gray trenchcoat swirling with the motion. Taking a step, he slowly looked back over his shoulder at Squall, his expression unreadable. Oddly enough, the antagonism seemed to have leaked out of him for the moment.

"Do whatever the hell you want," Seifer muttered quietly.

"Shouldn't we get going?" Quistis asked pointedly. "The longer you three stand there arguing, the less time any of our people alive in the comm tower may have. We need to get them out of there as quickly as we can and find out exactly what's going on."

Squall nodded in agreement. "Let's move, people. And keep an eye out, because those Galbadians may still be here somewhere."

Heading quickly with the others across the sand to the stone stairs leading up to the city, Zell suddenly paused in midstride. "Yo, guys… what's that smell?"

An unusual yet vaguely familiar odor hung in the air, a slight coppery tang mixed with a sickeningly sweet aroma Zell could not quite put a name to. Once again, he took in the odd silence around him, and a cold shiver started to work its way insidiously up his spine. Something was indeed very, very wrong here. Zell raised his fists cautiously, the softly creaking leather of his prized Ergheiz fighting gloves somewhat reassuring in the stillness.

He didn't need to glance at Squall to know that his friend must have been feeling a similar sense of unease. The silence lay heavily in the air, unbroken save for the ocean waves and the mournful calls of seagulls and a few other birds that Zell couldn't quite make out at the moment. He should been able to hear the normal hustle and bustle of city life, the blare of car horns, the murmur of conversation, and the brisk clopping of shoes on concrete, among other things.

Yet there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Quistis suddenly froze, the color draining from her face as she looked upon the city of Dollet. "Dear Hyne…"

Zell followed Quistis' shocked, wide-eyed gaze as he finally caught up to her, the others just behind him, and nearly choked when he saw what had so thoroughly paralyzed the blond instructor. Although he had always prided himself on having a strong stomach, Zell nevertheless felt his gorge rise as he slowly took in the horrific sight before him. The strange, sickly sweet smell he had detected earlier hung much more strongly in the air here, and he recognized it at last with a chill as the stench of death mingled with the coppery aftertaste of drying blood.

The streets of Dollet were filled with the dead.

Bodies lay everywhere, scattered in different poses like so many broken dolls. They were sprawled on the streets and wedged in doorways, slumped against walls, or hanging through shattered windows. Men, women, even children, had all been slaughtered, viciously torn apart until what was left was barely recognizable as human remains. Blood and worse soaked the concrete not ten yards from Zell's feet, and the walls and glass of the buildings were stained with crimson splatters. Flies swirled lazily above the mangled bodies, gorging themselves on the bloated corpses of soldiers and merchants, housewives and businessmen, infants and teenagers.

Zell fought desperately to keep his breakfast from suddenly resurfacing. "What… what the… what the hell happened here?"

"ATROCIOUS," Fujin gasped.

Quistis swallowed nervously. "Who could have possibly done this, Squall? And why?"

"We'll figure it out later," Squall ordered, staring grimly at the devastation, "but right now we have to get to the tower and find out if any of our people are still alive."

Seifer snorted derisively. "Doesn't look like it."

The young SeeD commander fixed his old rival with a dangerous stare. "We won't know until we get there, Seifer, so just keep your mouth shut."

Seifer took a threatening step toward him, but Raijin managed to grab his arm. "I wouldn't, Seifer, ya know? Bad idea, ya know?"

"TIMING, NOT GOOD," Fujin agreed.

"Fine," Seifer snarled, roughly shrugging off Raijin's grip and glaring angrily at Squall, "but don't think I'm gonna forget this."

Squall shrugged dismissively. "Whatever."

As they made their way cautiously through the city, Zell saw bodies everywhere, choking every street as though the people had run outside in a blind panic during the night only to find their killers waiting for them. Silence hung heavily in the air, and the place began to feel to Zell like a vast, mazelike tomb that might ensnare himself and his friends within its bloody web. He didn't understand how Squall could possibly be so calm, what with the hellish visions all around them, the blood-soaked streets and boulevards where people from all walks of life had been brutally massacred. Until last night, Dollet had been an occupied city controlled by the Galbadian radicals.

Only now, it was a city of the dead.

At one point, Zell lost his footing on a slick patch of blood in the middle of the main road he and the others had been following. Hoping and praying he wouldn't fall among the mangled bodies, he managed to catch himself on his hands and knees. Looking up, he saw to his horror that his face was only inches away from that of a young woman with wide, glassy eyes that stared at nothing. Zell shuddered as he realized that there was nothing left of the woman below her neck. Her long hair might have been blond once, before it had become so matted with drying blood.

Hauling himself to his feet, Zell hurried onward until he and the others had reached the massive stone bridge that connected the city proper to the mainland. More bodies lay here, mostly Galbadian military forces, and Zell guessed there must have been some sort of skirmish here between the radicals and their own people. Yet as with the wreckage of the gunships, none of the dead here were from the SeeD exam team. It didn't seem to make any sense, yet a sense of hope filled the blond man nonetheless. Maybe their people had gotten lucky and avoided any losses after all.

His gut instinct, however, told him otherwise.

As he and the others made their way across the bridge and up the slope towards the tower, Zell could see more Galbadian dead. Whatever the fate of the exam team, they had certainly made it costly for their opponents. Zell would have expected no less from his SeeD friends. They were part of the most elite and highly trained military force in the world and doubtless would not have gone down easily even hindered as they were by the unexpected failure of their magic and GF's.

The paved cobblestone path wound its way around the hillside until it opened onto a sheer cliff overlooking the communications tower, which sat on a wide shelf of rock several dozen feet below the trail that Zell and the others had been following. Ahead of them, the path continued onward, descending behind a high bluff until it curved out of sight. The martial artist crouched with his companions behind some shrubbery growing near the edge of the cliff and peered intently down at the tower.

"They've shut it down," Squall observed quietly.

Sure enough, Zell saw that his friend was right. The communications tower, control of which had been restored to the Dollet government shortly after the war, now sat dark and lifeless like a spent battery. The satellite apparatus had been deactivated, retracted back into its storage bay deep within the bowels of the tower's subterranean lower levels, and at the base of the structure, the double doors of the main entrance had been sealed shut. In front of the entrance, a few Galbadian radicals lay sprawled lifelessly on the ground amidst scattered splotches of drying blood.

Seifer grimaced. "Doesn't make any sense. Why go to the trouble of taking the damn tower if it wasn't gonna be used anyway?"

"To keep someone else from using it," Quistis answered softly. "It's the only possible explanation."

"But why would they just abandon it?" Zell muttered, idly scratching his tattooed left cheek.

Squall rose slowly to his feet and motioned the others to do the same. "I don't know, but I intend to find out. Let's get going."

Dusting off his blue denim shorts, Zell carefully made his way down the paved trail that looped its way around the bluff to where the deactivated communications tower stood mutely at the base of the cliff. The blond martial artist glanced warily about, peering into the shadows on either side of the facility, but saw nothing. A light breeze touched his face, ruffling his short spike of unruly blond hair as he caught up to Squall just yards away from the tower's entrance.

Zell sighed in frustration. "I don't like this, Squall. It's like, way too easy."

"I know," Squall agreed, "but we don't have much choice. We've got to get inside and see if anyone's still alive in there."

"And just how do you plan on doing that, Mr. Leader?" Seifer sneered.

Squall glanced evenly at his old rival. "Watch and learn."

Drawing his gunblade, Squall stepped up to the entry and slowly slid the weapon at a steep downward angle in between the sealed double doors. Once he had managed to insert the gunblade nearly up to the barrel, Squall motioned the others to stand back. Gripping the hilt firmly with both hands, he simultaneously thrust upwards and pulled the trigger.

Zell winced as the force of the small explosion threw the doors open, though the massive steel portals were no more than singed by the impact. As the ringing in his ears began to subside, Zell glanced apprehensively into the yawning black mouth that was the tower entrance. Murky shadows cloaked the interior of the facility in a darkness that was almost palpable.

Nodding to Quistis, who withdrew a flashlight from her belt and quickly flicked it on, Squall led the others inside. Zell followed, eyes alert for trouble and his fists held ready in front of him. The pale yellow beam from the flashlight didn't do much to illuminate the gloom, but in Zell's mind, it was vastly preferable to having no light at all. He could just barely make out the form of the main lift a few yards ahead, though without power it was practically useless.

"This is Commander Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden!" Squall called out. "Is anyone in here?"

Zell suddenly felt his foot brush against something cold and stiff. Slowly, he glanced downward to find himself staring at another body, one of many that lay piled here in the tower's entry chamber. Like the unfortunate people of Dollet, many of these corpses seemed to have been ripped apart, impaled, gutted, or otherwise mangled. Others were burnt almost beyond recognition, the flesh blackened almost to the bone in some places. As he bent closer, Zell nearly choked.

These bodies were clad in SeeD uniforms.

"S-Squall…" was all he was able to get out, his eyes locked on those of his dead compatriots.

His friend nodded grimly. "I know."

"In her transmission, Xu mentioned some kind of some kind of monster," Quistis surmised, not quite able to keep her voice from trembling at the sight of the dead. "It may still be here, Squall."

"Looks damn dangerous to me," Seifer muttered.

Squall brought up his gunblade, his eyes smoldering. "I'm dangerous, too, and whoever's done this and taken Rinoa is going to find out that it's a very bad idea to piss me off."

The blond man smirked sarcastically. "Oh, they're in trouble now…"

"Fuck off, Seifer," Squall retorted. "You can't really talk much yourself, seems as how I beat the hell out you, what, four times was it?"

Seifer glared angrily. "So what now, Mr. Leader?"

"There should be—" Squall began, but a loud slam abruptly cut him off.

Zell whirled around, eyes wide. "Squall! The doors!"

The young SeeD commander spun about, leaping toward the entry just as the two massive double doors slid shut behind Raijin and Fujin, who had been the last to enter. They turned about, as surprised as everyone else, and Zell charged past them to slam his shoulder into the steel portals. 

They refused even to budge, and he suddenly heard a scraping of metal on metal and realized that whoever had shut the doors had barred them as well. Squall's little trick with the gunblade wouldn't work this time. Pounding his fist angrily against the wall, Zell sighed in frustration.

They were trapped.


	10. Chapter 10

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

You can now view the offical Point of Intersection poster graphic at - a real visual treat! ^_^  
  


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**CHAPTER 10**  


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DISCLAIMER: This chapter is not for the faint of heart, as it is much more graphic than the previous chapter. Proceed at your own risk. 

  
Ever since she was a little girl, Quistis had been afraid of the dark.

She could remember from her days in the orphanage the little nightlight she had always kept by her bed to ward off the phantoms and monsters that she had once believed hid stealthily in the shadows waiting to devour her. There were times when bossy little Quisty had lain awake in the dead of night, cold sweat trickling between her shoulder blades. She would toss and turn and cast anxious glances at the black shapes in the gloom and not know what they were. Only the small, feeble yellow glow of her nightlight had kept the darkness at bay and allowed her to finally sleep.

Quistis would still even now wake up some nights shivering with a fear she couldn't quite explain or ignore. Although she had for the most part long ago outgrown her childhood dread of the darkness, the blond instructor still grew a little uneasy in places where light was scarce or nonexistent. She knew better than to let herself succumb to such disquiet, strong though it sometimes was, yet it had never completely faded, much to her frustration. Why should she still be afraid?

In the wan, pale luminescence of the flashlight, Quistis stared apprehensively at the torn and mangled bodies lying on the floor of the tower's entry chamber. All had died violently, burnt in the fiery destruction of the gunships, riddled with bullets, or savagely torn apart by something far worse. Swallowing heavily and casting anxious glances into the murky darkness surrounding her, Quistis wondered if there might not be some truth to her childhood fears after all.

"What happened here?" she wondered aloud.

Squall turned from where he had been examining the steel double doors alongside a visibly frustrated Zell. The martial artist stood with his fists clenched as he stared angrily at the sealed entry. He must have been feeling as chagrined as the rest of them. Quistis shook her head ruefully. At the moment, she felt like a first year cadet who had just blown an incredibly easy exam.

How could they have been so foolish? Yet as she thought about it, Quistis realized that it was hardly surprising. Their concern for their missing comrades had overridden nearly everything else in their minds. Squall was no doubt blaming himself for the loss of the exam team and his own group's entrapment. His moody temperament and distant gaze gave him away, at least to Quistis. She knew the young commander too well for him to hide much of anything from her. The pain in his eyes, though he tried to hide it, was obvious at least to her, but she knew he would die before admitting it.

As if his day hadn't already been bad enough.

Quistis felt for him, indeed worried for Rinoa and Ellone nearly as much as she was worrying for Squall. Rinoa had, in the years since the war, become one of her close friends. Although at first Quistis had thought her little more than a spoiled, naive rich girl, the events of the war and Rinoa's emergence as a sorceress had changed her. Though still bright and cheerful as always, Rinoa had perhaps grown up a little since the war's end. Quistis had fought alongside her, watched her come close to death more than once only to be saved at the last by Squall each time.

A not quite insignificant ember of jealousy still smoldered faintly within Quistis' breast. She had at one time developed feelings herself for Squall, but had possessed neither the courage nor self-confidence to admit them to him until it was too late. Rinoa had, quite unintentionally, ended any chance Quistis might have possessed. The blond instructor had for the most part let it go, however, accepting that Squall loved Rinoa alone. A bitter enough pill to swallow, Quistis knew, but then she was used to being alone.

Alone. Ellone. Since the end of the war with Ultimecia, Quistis had never really gotten to know the young woman she and the others had always known as Sis. Always busy with her job, she supposed. An instructor's life is one blur of motion after another, with sleep and food somewhere in between. She supposed she could have made time, yet neither she nor any of the rest of the old orphanage gang had ever gotten around to doing so, busy as they were with their own lives. Quistis sometimes thought herself lonely, but she wondered now how much more so Ellone must have often felt, bearing the stigma of her powers and having been hunted and pursued for most of her life.

Yet never could Quistis recall hearing Ellone lamenting her fate or laying any sort of blame for it. She had always seemed to accept what came as best she could and not let it sully her warm and sincere disposition. Quistis had always admired her for that, yet found that she herself sometimes lacked that same resilience. After Ellone had left the orphanage so long ago, Quistis had tried to take on the role of Sis, especially to Squall, in hopes of helping him and the others accept the loss of their beloved older sibling. Quistis sighed heavily. It had been hard enough for her and the others to cope with such a blow the first time, but now they were faced with losing Ellone, their Sis, once again.

Only this time, she might never come back.

The soft thudding of Squall's boots against the metal flooring roused Quistis from her uneasy thoughts as the young commander made his way slowly toward her. He kept his gunblade drawn, his eyes warily keeping watch on the shadows that closed in all about himself and the other members of the rescue team, and Quistis found her free hand drifting down to her hip to lightly touch the rough, tooled leather of the coiled whip hanging from her belt. Its familiar presence brought the blond instructor a small measure of reassurance within the gloom of the tower.

Quistis glanced uneasily at the corpses lying around her, trying not to linger too long on their blank, unseeing eyes. She recognized many of the dead, for they had been her own students or fellow SeeDs. Melora Wyndon, one of Quistis' brightest pupils, now lay in a tangled heap, half of her pale face missing and her brown, curly hair soaked with blood and brain matter. A ragged, gaping hole had been torn into the chest of Devyn Ulrich, a handsome young SeeD and avid Trepie, and the front of his uniform was stained with large crimson splotches. Despite her petite frame and unassuming appearance, little Andine Cahr had proven during her training to be an unexpectedly ferocious fighter, yet now her tortured body lay almost at Quistis' feet, all but severed at the waist as her eyes stared unseeing into the darkness.

As she surveyed the dead, seeing the mutilated yet terrifyingly familiar forms of her comrades, Quistis felt herself begin to tremble, and a hard lump began to build in her throat. To see so many of her students and colleagues, all so full of promise, brutally cut down like lambs in a slaughterhouse, was almost more than she could bear. The blond instructor started to take a deep breath to try and calm her frayed nerves, but as her gaze wandered towards the back of the chamber, Quistis suddenly let out a startled gasp.

She had found Xu.

One of the few close friends Quistis had come to know during her years at Garden, the SeeD lieutenant commander now lay lifelessly on her back in a wide pool of her own blood, her short auburn hair soaked and swirling limply about her ears in sodden strands. A series of reddish blots were splattered across her leg and abdomen where she must have been shot by the Galbadians before encountering whatever it was that had finally killed her.

Xu's throat had been cruelly ripped out, the torn jugular vein still leaking blood onto the floor, and one dead hand firmly grasped the shattered husk of a standard issue SeeD comlink device. The hand itself, however, lay several feet away from the rest of Xu's corpse, the dull white of bone clearly visible from the severed wrist. The expression frozen upon the young woman's face was one of abject terror, her mouth open in a horrified shriek of pain and her eyes wide with fear.

Quistis stared in disbelief, her body suddenly trembling everywhere at once. "X-Xu…? No! No, this can't be happening! It can't!" 

She sank to her knees, hugging herself tightly as her blue eyes began to fill with tears. Her chest began to hitch, and although she berated herself angrily for her weakness, her grief nevertheless continued to express itself. Xu, why? Why did this have to happen? You should have listened to me! I tried to tell you before you left that something was wrong, but you wouldn't listen! Damn you, Xu! Why? Why did you have to go and get yourself killed? Why did you have to die?

Gradually, Quistis became aware that the others had joined her. Embarrassed at being seen in such a vulnerable state, she hurriedly wiped her eyes and tried to stand, but her legs seemed to have taken on the consistency of jelly. She slid back down, crouched dejectedly on her heels, and tried not to look at what was left of her friend.

Seeing the bodies of her students had been one thing, but finding Xu… Quistis had known deep in her heart that her friend was dead, but she had refused to admit it to herself. Even now, with Xu's tormented body lying scant yards away, Quistis shivered miserably and shook her head, unable to accept the loss of one of her oldest and closest friends.

She and Xu had often had lunch together in the Garden cafeteria, usually at one of the little tables by those large potted plants on the far side of the dining area. It had become sort of a routine for the two women over the years, where they would share a meal and talk about all sorts of different things, from their students, upcoming exams and missions, to even their personal lives, hopes, dreams, and relationships. Xu had become almost like a sister to Quistis, one of the few people the blond instructor had felt comfortable opening up to about virtually anything.

But now, she was gone.

After Squall had first been made the SeeD commander, Quistis and Xu had been put in charge of helping him in the running of the Garden and its affairs. Administrative details had still been handled by Headmaster Cid, but the two women had taken on the responsibilities of assigning duties, managing supplies, and helping the students. Squall had eventually given Xu the title of lieutenant commander, since she had pretty much become his second-in-command, and Quistis the title of lieutenant. Reinstated as an instructor, Quistis had been forced to split her time between her students and her duties as an officer, whereas Xu had been solely an officer.

Quistis swallowed heavily, wondering how she was going to tell Nida. The young Garden navigator had grown quite fond of Xu over the years, and Quistis knew that her friend had felt the same for him. Xu had told her as much, and it was one of the few times Quistis could ever recall seeing her blush. The memory brought a faint, rueful smile to the blond instructor's lips, though it faded soon enough. Xu and Nida had only just begun to see each other, but now…

"DAMMIT!!" A loud bang jerked Quistis from her thoughts, and she looked up to see Zell angrily slamming his fist into the wall before whirling around to face his gray-coated antagonist. "This… this sucks! It's all your fault, Seifer! If you had done your job, if you had tried just a little harder, Xu and the others would still be alive! They'd never have come here in the first place!"

Seifer stared icily at the blond martial artist. "I told you before, Zell! They got here before I could warn them what the Galbadians were up to! So just shut that big mouth of yours, chicken-wuss, and leave me the hell alone before I shut it for you!"

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?" Zell snarled, bringing his fists up.

"Cut it out you two!" Squall interjected, pushing the two men apart and glaring angrily at them. "That's an order! We don't have time for your pointless bickering! Understood?"

Zell nodded glumly and shook off Squall's grip while Seifer simply grunted and folded his arms over his chest. Quistis would never understand him. Ever since their days together in the orphanage, Seifer had tormented Zell relentlessly, and Squall too. She had always tried to break it up, but had often gotten an earful herself from Seifer as a result. What doubts and insecurities did he hide beneath his snide exterior that so drove him to bully those around him? Quistis had often wondered.

Squall knelt beside her for a moment, his bluish gray eyes staring grimly at what was left of Xu. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I'm the SeeD commander, after all."

"Don't say that, Squall," Quistis protested, her voice unsteady from her grief. "You didn't know what would happen, no more than she did."

He sighed wearily. "I suppose…"

Quistis bowed her head, trying to blink back fresh tears. "We… we lost so many good people today… Devyn, Andine, Ronel, Melora… Xu… I should have been with them, but… but I… I…"

"Pull yourself together, Instructor," Squall told her quietly, but not unkindly. "There'll be time for tears later, alright? I need you right now."

Brushing the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand, Quistis nodded and rose unsteadily to her feet. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember how Xu had looked in life, with her shoulder length auburn hair and gentle smile that belied the gruff, no-nonsense officer persona she had often been forced to adopt for the sake of her duties. Holding tightly onto that image in her mind, Quistis sighed resolutely and looked once more into the murky shadows surrounding her, the sparsely illuminated gloom of harsh reality.

"What next, Squall?" she asked.

The young commander swept his gaze intently over the mangled bodies sprawled across the darkened chamber like so many broken dolls. "How many of our people do you see?"

Quistis carefully looked around, making a mental tally of the dead. "Twenty-two…. but weren't there supposed to be more?"

"The exam team originally had twenty-eight people assigned to it," Squall agreed, "so that means we have six people still unaccounted for."

"Five," Quistis corrected him, starting to feel a little like herself again. "We know from Xu's message that the Galbadians took Rinoa during the attack."

Squall nodded. "Alright, then. Five people are still missing, and whether they're alive or dead, we have to find them if we can. There's nothing we can do for Rin right now."

"So where do we start looking?" Zell wondered, peering into the gloom around him and scratching his head in puzzlement.

"I was saying, before the doors closed," Squall explained, "that there should be some stairs or a maintenance shaft of some kind around here that leads to the tower's lower levels. I think that's where the transmitter assembly is normally kept when it's not in use. If our missing people are still alive, they've probably been sealed down there somehow."

Quistis frowned in puzzlement. "But why? Most of our team was slaughtered. Why would they have been spared when everyone else was killed?"

"I don't know, but did you notice who's missing among the dead?" Squall replied.

At first, the blond instructor didn't understand what her friend was getting at, but then as she thought about it, she suddenly realized what he meant. "Only two squads were actually assigned to attack the tower directly, right? Rinoa's candidate squad, and a SeeD squad to provide support fire. But nobody from either of those two groups is here, are they?"

Squall shook his head. "No, and that's what worries me. Everyone on the exam team is dead except for them, and they were the first to get here. It doesn't make any sense…"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Seifer grunted sourly. "Even if we do find those people, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?"

In response, Squall withdrew from his belt his own comlink and held it up for his friends to see. "Selphie and Irvine are still out there in the Ragnarok, remember? Communications are still being jammed, but I managed to get a short message through to Irvine. They're already on their way here."

"But what about the Galbadians that shut us in here in the first place?" Zell asked.

"The Ragnarok can take care of them easily enough," Squall replied. "Right now we need to find that maintenance shaft and see if the rest of our people are still alive."

With that, the group spread out in different directions around the chamber and began searching. Quistis made her way carefully along the far left wall, stepping gingerly over tangled arms or legs lying in her path, not all of which were attached to a body. Blood ran in messy smears and spots here and there along the cold steel, and Quistis did her best not to bring her hands too close as she tried to find the elusive entrance to the lower levels.

It was Raijin who eventually found it. "Hey, guys! It's over here, ya know?"

Quistis followed the others to the far side of the room, where a small, nondescript metal door stood closed at the back of a darkened alcove. Seifer pulled on the handle, and the door swung silently open to reveal a set of curved steps winding downwards into the darkness. Affixed to the wall nearby was a small sign that read "BASEMENT SUBLEVELS / SATELLITE ASSEMBLY."

"Looks like this is it," Seifer grimaced, drawing his own gunblade.  
Squall stared grimly at the dark opening. "Seifer, Quistis, you're with me. Zell, you stay here with Fujin and Raijin. Keep an eye out in case the Galbadians try anything."

"I will," Zell replied, clenching his fists tightly as though he hoped the Galbadians did attack and give him an opportunity for payback. Quistis couldn't really say she wouldn't have wanted that chance herself were it to somehow arise. The terror-stricken expression on Xu's normally calm face would surely haunt her sleep for many nights to come.

Squall handed Zell his own flashlight. "If we're not back in an hour, then it's probably safe to say we won't be coming back at all. If that happens, go on and leave without us."

"Yo, Squall, don't say that!" Zell argued. "There's no way I'm gonna just abandon you guys!"

"You won't be," Squall countered, "because if we're not back by that time, then we're probably dead. Whatever killed our people may still be here somewhere."

Zell pounded his fist against the palm of his other hand. "If it is, we'll nail the bastard!"

Squall shook his head. "Your priority, if we don't return, is to get out of here alive and inform Headmaster Cid of the situation. We've lost enough people already, and I don't want you getting yourself killed trying to avenge us. Is that understood?"

"Yeah, yeah," the blond man muttered glumly.

Uncoiling her whip from her belt, Quistis nodded her readiness to Squall, and the young commander motioned for her and Seifer to follow him. The dark opening yawned blackly before them, and Quistis wondered how far down they would have to go. She felt her old fears rising up again, her childhood dread of the darkness, only now it seemed not quite so foolish anymore.

In this place, who knew what lay hidden within the murky, impenetrable shadows?

How long the descent lasted, Quistis couldn't say. It could have been minutes or hours or any amount of time in between, the eerie stillness broken only by the soft thuds of her footfalls as well as those of her two companions. Here in the stairwell, the putrid stench of death was less evident, the air somewhat cleaner, and Quistis breathed it in gratefully as she followed cautiously after Squall, with Seifer behind her silently bringing up the rear.

They reached landings at regular intervals, and each contained a door marked with a number indicating the sublevel. Many of the doors had been sealed shut with electronic locks, but with the power out they opened easily enough. Yet so far, every sublevel had been empty, and so Quistis and her two companions continued downward into the gloom. With each step, the darkness seemed to grow deeper, blacker, and more malignant, as though it were alive somehow. Quistis felt it beginning to press in on her almost as if it were a physical weight bearing her down.

Ahead of her, Squall came to a stop. "We're at the bottom."

In the wan glow of her flashlight, Quistis saw that he was right. The stairs at last came to an end just a few yards ahead, and at their base a small metal door stood tightly closed, the lights from the electronic lock panel beside it as darkened and dead as the rest of the tower. Imprinted in black letters upon the door's smooth metal surface were the words "SATELLITE ASSEMBLY - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT."

On closer inspection, Quistis saw that the powerless lock panel had been scoured with a crude line of molten, stitched metal which held the door to its frame by the lock's edge, keeping the door securely in place. Squall grasped the handle and pulled with both hands, grunting with the exertion, but to no avail. He might as well have tried to rip the door off its hinges.

"Damn," he muttered.

Seifer smirked. "Let me show you how it's done, Leonhart."

Bringing up his arm, the blond young man concentrated his will, and Quistis knew from experience that he was preparing to cast a spell of some sort. Sweat beaded on his brow as he held his gloved hand out extended before him, palm outward and facing the door. Quistis and the others had each junctioned a GF before arriving in Dollet, and she supposed Seifer must have found one as well, for only with the GF's was the use of most magic possible.

Yet lately, Quistis had felt that faint presence in the back of her mind that was the essence of her GF grow strangely silent, as though cut off somehow. Normally, her GF communicated its thoughts to her from time to time, like an inner voice of some sort. Now, however, that voice had been muted. Shiva could no longer reach her.

Quistis had as yet said nothing, because Shiva herself had never been a very talkative GF in the first place. Entire months had sometimes gone by when the ice maiden had said little to her, unlike other GF's, such as Carbuncle and Cactuar, who chattered incessantly and whom Quistis had gratefully passed on to Selphie at the first opportunity. The blond instructor had never appreciated the silence of her own mind so much as when she had finally rid herself of the mindless, constant babbling of those two GF's.

But now, in the gloom of the tower, Quistis would almost have been glad to hear them. At least then, she would know for sure that the GF's were still there, sharing their power with her and not mysteriously vanished for some unknown reason. The blond instructor waited expectantly as Seifer struggled to cast his spell, but nothing happened.

"What the hell…?" he muttered sourly, still holding his arm outstretched.

Quistis frowned in puzzlement, then suddenly remembered something she had all but forgotten until now. "Wait a minute… Xu said in her message that for some reason, none of her people's magic was working and neither were the GF's…"

"Thanks for the timely report, Instructor," Seifer replied sarcastically, finally lowering his arm. "So now what do we do?"

At first, Quistis wasn't sure. She knew now beyond any doubt that Shiva's silence was more than just the ice maiden's typical reticence. Something had cut her off along with her power, and as Quistis began to fully realize the impact of that loss, she felt suddenly very vulnerable. The blond instructor started to understand at last how her companions on the exam team might have been so easily cut down, bereft of the strength and protection of the GF's upon which they had depended. And now she and her friends were in the same situation.

Suddenly an idea came to her. "I think I know a way…"

"What is it, Quistis?" Squall asked.

"My blue magic," she explained. "It isn't connected to the GF's, so it may still work."

From an early age, Quistis had possessed a talent for understanding and using the special powers of certain monsters. She hadn't really developed her abilities with blue magic, as enemy skills were more commonly known, until coming to Garden and training to be a SeeD, however, and it wasn't until the war with Ultimecia that Quistis had acquired most of the monster spells that she knew. They served a variety of functions, both offensive and defensive, though she had rarely used them outside of battle. Yet now, perhaps they might be of help.

Squall nodded. "It's worth a try."

Taking a deep breath, Quistis closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated, trying to decide which technique to use on the lock panel. Ray-Bomb and Micro Missile, while certainly explosive enough, possessed a substantial blast radius, and in this confined space that might prove damaging not only to the blue mage and her two companions, but also to anyone on the other side. She briefly considered using the Homing Laser, but its multiple beams had often proven difficult for her to aim with much accuracy. If it had been off even by a little, the searing laser might have cut through not only the door but also the people she and her friends were trying to save.

Ultimately, Quistis decided to take a more methodical approach. She had at one point learned a skill that she called Acid from one of the gaylas that inhabited much of the Trabia region, where the floating manta ray creatures had over time developed a technique in which they would spew a stream of highly corrosive fluid at their enemies. By studying these monsters and examining their acidic body fluids, Quistis had eventually learned to employ a similar technique, albeit with her hand and not her mouth.

The blond instructor drew in her will, focusing on the magical energies swirling within her body, and called upon them to aid her. Opening her eyes, she thrust her arm out before her, and a spray of greenish liquid shot forth from her outstretched fingers and spattered onto the lock panel. The caustic fluid ate hungrily at the metal, bubbling and frothing in a frenzy until smoke rose from the delicate circuitry housed within the panel and the lock clattered open.

Squall raised his gunblade, slowly opening the door to reveal inky blackness within. "Let's go."

Tightening her fingers over the handle of her whip, Quistis slowly followed after him into the gloom of the storage chamber. The beam of her flashlight did little to push the shadows aside, seeming actually to make them somehow deeper somehow. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder, suddenly feeling as though she were being watched, yet all she saw was Seifer's tall form behind her. He paid her little heed, his eyes intent on the darkness.

"Is anyone here?" Squall called out. "This is commander Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden. If you can hear me, say something!"

To Quistis' surprise and relief, a voice answered him. "Squall! Sir, is that you?"

The voice was feminine, and as Quistis swept the flashlight through the darkened room, she at last saw who it was that had spoken. A young woman, perhaps her own age and clad in a SeeD uniform, rose to her feet from where she had been kneeling next to a wounded, sandy-haired man in a cadet's garb. Beneath the massive bulk of the deactivated satellite array, two SeeDs—one male, one female—and a young female cadet sat huddled close together.

Squall turned to the woman that had spoken. "Marticia! Is everyone here alright?"

"Yes, sir," the young woman nodded, saluting. "Just some cuts and Elias' broken arm. Nothing too serious, but… they took us by surprise, sir. The Galbadians, I mean."

In the wan glow of her flashlight, Quistis was able to get a better look at the girl. Marticia Gailey's blue eyes glittered like chips of ice, revealing little of whatever weariness must have lay within, and her long black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. The dark strands were held together by a metal clasp forged into the shape of Griever, the legendary lion-like beast whose image also adorned the hilt of Squall's gunblade as well as his necklace and ring. From what Quistis had heard, the clasp had been a graduation gift from the SeeD commander to honor one of his best students. In one hand, Marticia grasped a gunblade forged of crimson steel, its keen edge jagged like tongues of fire. The aptly named Flame Sabre was her trademark weapon, and seldom was she found without it.

"What happened?" Quistis asked.

Marticia sighed grimly. "The whole thing was a setup, Instructor. Our mission was supposed to be a surprise attack, but the Galbadians knew all along that we were coming. Everything went as planned for us until my squad and Rinoa's reached the tower."

"That's when they sprang the trap," Squall surmised.

"Right," Marticia agreed. "Once we got inside, we found the Galbadians there waiting for us. We tried to fight them off for as long as we could, but somehow our magic and GF's weren't responding. I managed to radio Xu for backup, but she never came, at least not before we were taken down here. Where is she, sir? Where is everyone else?"

Quistis stared at her, glancing uneasily at Squall. How were they going to tell Marticia what had happened in the entry chamber? Suddenly, Quistis remembered that Dollet was the female SeeD's hometown. Or rather, it had been her hometown. The blond instructor struggled to find the right words to say, to even comprehend the horror of hearing what she was about to say.

Before she could speak, however, Seifer did it for her. "They're dead. All of 'em."

"What…?" Marticia's face paled, her blue eyes widening.

"There… there's no easy way to say this," Quistis explained. "Someone… something… slaughtered them… and the people of Dollet as well. I'm sorry…"

The young woman backed away, shaking her head in stubborn denial. "No… no, that can't be! I don't believe you! It… it's just not possible!"

"Gailey!" Squall's voice snapped like a whip. "You're a SeeD, now act like one! We need you to get your people together and follow us out of here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Marticia replied, her expression now carefully neutral and revealing nothing of the turmoil that Quistis knew must have been raging within. "I'm sorry, sir. I was out of line."

The young commander nodded wearily. "It's alright, Marticia. I'd have probably reacted that way if I'd been told the same thing about Balamb or Garden. But when we get to the main level of the tower, it isn't going to be pretty. I need you to stay calm, no matter what you see."

Marticia saluted. "I'll try, sir. But... you know that I'm originally from Dollet. I… I have family here, sir… friends that I grew up with…"

"I know," he replied. "Now, can you tell me what happened to Rinoa?"

"She was—" Marticia began, but then suddenly a soft whisper of sound floated in the air. Like chill, macabre laughter it was, and Quistis' blood ran cold in her veins. She glanced around, but could see nothing in the murky shadows beyond the illumination of her flashlight. Beside her, Marticia brought up her gunblade along with Squall and Seifer, her expression fiercely determined, and the remainder of the exam team clustered together and exchanged nervous glances while readying their weapons.

Suddenly, Quistis became aware that dark forms, several dozen at least, were crawling from out of the top of the satellite array and across the ceiling and walls like insects. The black-skinned shapes were vaguely humanoid, with wickedly curved claws and long, pointed teeth like daggers, but wiry and hard to discern from the darkness in which they hid. They moved with amazing speed, flitting effortlessly through the blackness like ghosts, and Quistis barely had time to blink before they closed in.


	11. Chapter 11

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_  


* * *

**CHAPTER 11**  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: Some graphic violence ahead.. Proceed at your own risk. 

  
Squall held his gunblade ready as the black things swarmed toward himself and his companions. As the monstrous beings drew closer, he realized that their bodies weren't entirely solid, but instead a writhing mass of swirling shadows and inky black mist, with dark eyes so opaque they made the feeble glow of Quistis' flashlight seem like afternoon sunshine in comparison. The creatures' bodies constantly shifted and reformed as they moved, yet their faces remained hideously clear.

Each was different. Some grinned maliciously, knifelike teeth leering insanely at Squall and his team in a sort of deranged frenzy. Other faces, meanwhile, were frozen in macabre expressions of unspeakable horror, their tortured midnight eyes wide with fear and their mouths gaping open in soundless shrieks of incomprehensible pain and misery. And then there were those creatures that had no faces at all, that were little more than formless wraiths in the darkness.

From the creatures flowed an aura of bitter, numbing cold that seemed to freeze Squall's blood solid within his veins. The bitter chill of the grave probed beneath his skin with icy tendrils as the hellish beings drew near, and his fingers grew stiff as they gripped the hilt of his gunblade. Goosebumps rose on his arms, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as ripples of maniacal, high-pitched laughter echoed maddeningly through the shadowy chamber.

It was as though the darkness itself had suddenly come to nightmarish, unholy life.

"I think this would be a _very_ good time for us to get the hell out of here," Seifer muttered darkly from where he stood beside Squall.

The SeeD commander nodded. "For once, Seifer, I agree with you. Let's go."

But before anyone could go further than a few steps, the monstrous beings were upon them. The malodorous scents of rot and blood rose sickly in the air, and Squall felt icy needles of pain pierce his shoulder as one of the hideous monsters sank knifelike teeth into his flesh. Almost at once, his upper left arm went numb with cold, and the blood seemed almost to freeze on his skin. He swiped with his gunblade at the creature, but to his disbelief the weapon passed harmlessly through the blackness of its body as though cutting through nothing but air.

Fiery waves of pain burned on his leg as talons sliced at the skin before he could recover his balance. Squall grimaced but stabbed again at his foe, straight through the chest this time as the creature sprang deftly at him. Yet once again the SeeD commander struck only empty shadows, his weapon whistling through the blackness where his enemy's body should have been. The thing was so damned fast, it seemed to be everywhere at once. Or maybe there was more than one confronting him now in the gloom. Suddenly he couldn't be entirely certain.

A piercing scream shattered his thoughts, and he whirled about to see the female SeeD from the exam team go down amidst a writhing mass of dark forms. Blood pooled onto the floor and spattered against the wall in a spray of red droplets as her agonized cries were abruptly cut off, to be replaced by the sickening sound of flesh being torn asunder like paper. 

Marticia took a step toward them, hoisting her Flame Sabre as her blue eyes glared coldly at the monsters before her. "_Layna!_ Come on, you sick bastards! Come here!"

"Gailey, not now!" Squall urged her, glancing warily about for more of the creatures. "We have to get out of here!"

"We can't just leave her!" she argued.

The young commander shook his head. "She's dead, Marticia, and we will be too if we don't leave now! Move! That's an order!"  
She nodded and started to lower her blade, but then suddenly brought it up again and fired almost straight at Squall. He dove to the side instinctively, and only then did he become aware of the creature that had come up stealthily behind him. The bullet from Marticia's gunblade struck the horrid thing full in its hideous face, sending the monster staggering backwards momentarily before it deftly spun about and launched itself at her in a rapid blur of motion.

"Run!" Squall exclaimed, pulling Marticia quickly out of the thing's path, and together with their remaining companions they broke for the door.

Seifer and Quistis flew past them and started up the stairs, the former knight firing off a few rounds from his gunblade back at the creatures as he did so. Most went wide of their mark, however, as the monsters flitted liquidly through the inky darkness much too quickly for him to get a clear target. Squall fired off a few shots of his own at the advancing horde but had no better luck.

He halted at the base of the stairs, urging Marticia on ahead as he waited for the last of the exam team members to reach him. She started to protest, wanting to wait with him for her friends, but a single angry glance from Squall silenced her almost at once and sent her hurrying up the stairs after the others. Squall sighed grimly and, although he knew it was probably useless, brought up this gunblade and fired at the monsters once again to give the remaining people in the room some cover as they raced toward him and the relative safety of the stairwell.

Elias, the sandy-haired youth with the broken arm, reached Squall a split second later and ran past him up the winding steps, holding his wounded limb close to his chest as he did so. Close behind him was the young female candidate, a dark-skinned girl with shoulder-length black hair streaming out behind her neck as she ran, and following her a ways back was the other candidate. Squall could see the sweat beading on the young man's forehead as he tried to catch up.

He never made it.

A clawed black hand of swirling mist suddenly grabbed the young man from behind, reaching over the top of his head to dig painfully into the underside of his jaw as he began to scream while other hands grasped his flailing arms. Squall stared, unable to move as the hideously grinning thing behind the doomed man suddenly pulled backwards with a great heave. There was a loud snap, like the breaking of a lead pencil in two, as the male candidate's head was brutally and forcibly ripped from his neck with a grotesque shattering of bone and tissue.

A great gout of blood from the mangled stump atop the dead man's shoulders sprayed out like water from a broken fire hydrant, splashing Squall in the face before he could react. Blinking rapidly and wiping the grisly fluid from his eyes, the young commander finally managed to break his paralysis as the creatures idly let the male candidate's body fall to the ground along with the sundered head. The young man's face was frozen in the midst of a terrified scream, and for a moment Squall stopped again, held fast by its horrified gaze, before at last managing to get himself in motion once more.

Squall hurried up the winding stairs, occasionally glancing back over his shoulders to see the shadowy creatures closing fast behind him. They scuttled along the walls and ceiling or floated through the darkness on misty wings. Some bore weapons, cruelly sharp scythes stained with blood clutched in the chill grasp of faceless wraiths, or used no tool of death at all save the sharpened claws that the frenzied, hideously grinning variety of the monsters possessed.

A keening, mournful wail of unimaginable torment and misery suddenly filled the air, and as he clapped his hands over his ears, Squall stumbled and the chill in his arm grew deeper. One of the lost ones, the creatures with the screaming faces, had given horrible voice to its anguish. The young commander felt his heart constrict inside his chest, and wetness seeped from one earlobe as a trickle of blood spilled down the side of his jaw. Gasping for breath which he suddenly seemed not to have, Squall staggered weakly a few steps before his knees finally gave way. As he collapsed in a heap, his back to the stairwell's outer wall, he looked a little ways above him and saw an unmoving form sprawled on the stairs.

The female candidate stared back at him with unseeing eyes, blood flowing from both ears and dripping over the edge of the step on which she lay.

Glancing back down the stairs, Squall watched as the dark, constantly shifting forms of the hideous creatures advanced up the curve of the stairs like a wave of blackness. Somewhere inside his head a voice was screaming at him to move, to get up and run, but his body stubbornly refused to listen. He could barely feel his left arm at all anymore, and the deathly cold within it, like ice in his veins, began to slowly stretch its frigid tendrils up into his shoulder.

Suddenly there was a real voice in his ear, a familiar one. "Yo, Squall! C'mon, man, we gotta get outta here like right now!"

"Zell… didn't I order you to stay upstairs…?" Squall frowned.

"The hell with that!" the young martial artist exclaimed, hauling Squall to his feet. "Everyone but me and Quistis is up on the entry level waitin' for you! When you didn't show up with the others, she and I came back down here to find you."

Squall looked up to find Quistis standing nearby, her face pale but determined as she clutched her whip tightly in one hand and the flashlight in the other. "Let's go, Squall."

The young commander nodded wearily and started to follow his friends, but then he realized suddenly that the shadowy beings had slowed their pursuit. Squall could still sense them out there, hiding in the darkness, but for some reason that he didn't quite grasp at first, they halted. For a moment, all was quiet. A dropped pin might have seemed like thunder in the sudden stillness.

"Uh, Squall?" Zell whispered uneasily. "What're they doin' now?"  
The SeeD commander was wondering the same thing himself, but then as he exchanged glances with Quistis, he finally understood. "They don't like the light…"

"It makes sense," Quistis agreed. She kept her flashlight steadily trained in the direction where the monsters waited in the gloom beyond the reach of its meager illumination.

"Well, that's good to know, but shouldn't we get going?" Zell urged nervously.

Squall nodded. "Right. Let's move, people."

His injured arm hanging heavily from his shoulder, Squall scrambled up the stairs with Zell and Quistis. He noted that the blond instructor made the ascent backwards, keeping the stairs immediately beneath her dimly lit as she carefully made her way up the steps. Though he could no longer see them, Squall could still sense the dangerous creatures lurking just out of sight in the dimness, waiting for the pale light Quistis bore to fail and make the darkness complete.

The stairs wound upwards in a seemingly endless spiral, and it was all Squall could to do keep going. His breathing grew labored, and the muscles in his thighs and calves began to burn with the strain of exertion. Squall knew he should have been in better physical shape than this, but his wounded arm and the deadly shriek from those creatures had begun to take their toll. Even now, the SeeD commander could still hear the tormented wailing of the lost ones, though it had grown more faint as Squall and his friends had put more distance between themselves and the monsters.

After what could have been hours or minutes or anything in between, Squall looked up and saw the small door at the top of the stairs. It stood open, and next to it Raijin gave a shout when he saw Squall and the others. Apparently the dark-skinned young man had been stuck with lookout duty while the rest of the team remained in the entry chamber.

"There you are, ya know?" he exclaimed. "You, like, had us worried there for a bit, ya know?"

"I'm fine," Squall responded, shrugging off the other man's concern.

He made his way slowly into the main chamber, taking care to step over the bodies and parts of bodies that lay scattered about the blood-slicked floor like so many broken dolls. The double doors at the front of the room stood tightly closed, an impervious steel barrier several inches thick between his team and their freedom, perhaps even their very survival. 

Seifer raised an eyebrow as he strode haughtily from the closed entrance to meet him. "Damn, Leonhart, you look like shit…"

"Speak for yourself," Squall countered sourly. He was absolutely not in the mood for his old rival's pointless jibes right now.

"Squall, man," Zell stammered, pulling the small door shut behind him, "you're bleeding, like, all over your face. You okay?"

The young commander blinked as he suddenly remembered. "It's not mine, Zell. At least, not most of it… One of the candidates, he was killed right in front me…"

"It's his blood, isn't it?" Quistis surmised quietly.

Squall nodded and with a cloth he took from his pocket wiped the crimson fluid from his face as best he could. "Yeah. I can't feel my left arm, though. One of those… _things_… slashed it open just under my shoulder, and it's been like ice ever since."

"My goodness!" Quistis exclaimed. "We need to get to get you back to the infirmary!"

"We need to get out of here first, Instructor," Seifer noted pointedly.

Squall indicated the doors with a brisk motion of his head. "Any luck?"

"Hardly," Seifer quipped. "Otherwise they'd be wide open by now, genius. The Galbadians have us sealed in here pretty tight. Only way we're getting out of this mess is with a miracle."

Sighing grimly, Squall noticed Marticia standing alone on the far side of the chamber near Xu's body. The young SeeD was staring at the carnage around her in mute shock, probably trying vainly to comprehend the loss of so many of her comrades. Little showed on her face of what she must have been feeling, but Squall knew it would grow even worse once they made it outside. Marticia knelt for a moment next to Xu's unmoving form, passing her hand over the dead woman's face, and Squall realized somberly that she was quietly closing her commanding officer's unseeing eyes with unsteady fingers.

The sound of brisk footfalls hurrying toward him brought Squall's attention back to the problem at hand, and he saw Fujin moving intently in the direction of himself and Seifer. The gray-haired woman's face was pale, showing an uncharacteristic sense of unease that was reflected in the anxious gaze of her single cold blue eye. In her hand she grasped firmly her razor-tipped pinwheel, and Squall knew, almost before she spoke, what must have caused her distress.

"They're coming, aren't they?" he said. It wasn't exactly a question.

Fujin nodded, readying her weapon. "ENEMIES."

Even as she spoke, Squall suddenly became aware that the shadows were moving, that the dark shapes were coming right through the walls like bodiless spirits. Others swarmed down from the ceiling or emerged from the stairwell in a mass of shifting, writhing black forms. Claws, teeth, and curved steel glistened red with blood in the dimness as a macabre cacophony of tormented moans, gibbering laughter, and chill whispers in wordless voices filled Squall's ears.

Everyone huddled close together, backs against each other and weapons drawn as the creatures made their presence known. Yet the dark beings did not immediately attack, but rather waited just out of sight in the murky blackness. Squall was about to order everyone to the main doors when something happened then that caused his blood to run cold in his veins and a shiver to run up his spine.

Quistis' flashlight flickered fitfully and then suddenly died, plunging the room into utter darkness.

"What? No!" the blond instructor stammered nervously, banging the drained device repeatedly in frustration, but to no avail.

Squall sighed grimly. "Here they come…"

Staring intently into the darkness, the SeeD commander sensed the movement of the hellish creatures creeping toward them from all directions, their cackling and moaning and whispering strangely amplified in the lightless dark. Squall held his gunblade awkwardly in his good hand and wondered how well he'd be able to fight with just his one arm. He hoped he wouldn't have to find out, but knew it was unlikely that a battle could be avoided in their current situation.

A loud, explosive bang from outside suddenly split the air along with the whine of engines and the staccato impacts of gunfire. Bright sunlight shot into the room as the entry doors were forcibly ripped away with a screeching of metal by an immense mechanized arm of crimson steel. At almost the same moment, Squall's comlink abruptly crackled to life with a bouncy and, under the circumstances, welcome voice on the other end.

"_Booyaka!_" Selphie cheered.

Blinking his eyes as he adjusted to the sudden influx of light, Squall became aware that the demonic creatures had scurried swiftly back into the sheltering darkness within the bowels of the tower. They flitted back into shadowy corners out of the reach of the warm afternoon sunshine pouring inside the entry chamber through the gaping hole where the main doors lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. Without wasting a minute, Squall motioned to the others with his good arm.

"Back to the ship!" he ordered. "Let's go!"

Squall raced quickly through the opening, his companions close behind, and at last he was free of the tower. Never had open air seemed so sweet a thing, but he knew there was no time yet to savor it. The massive bulk of the Ragnarok loomed almost directly above him, and the cargo bay doors at the back slid open with a hiss of hydraulics. A familiar figure in a brown coat and cowboy hat beckoned to Squall while firing his rifle at the now revealed Galbadian troops from behind the cover of the ship's hull.

"Hurry it up, Squall! I can't hold 'em forever!" Irvine shouted above the din of gunfire.

The young swordsman nodded. "We're going as fast as we can! Just a little longer!"

His booted feet pounding on the concrete, Squall started to make his way toward where the lanky cowboy stood firing round after round of ammo at the Galbadians clustered on the curving ridge above the tower, but the SeeD leader suddenly lost his footing and banged his knee painfully against the concrete. His arm was a dead weight on his left side as he attempted to use his gunblade to brace himself and lift his unwilling body from the ground. The creature's wail must have been more weakening than he had thought at first, and he wondered briefly why it hadn't killed him like it had slain the female candidate who'd been there with him at the time.

_Maybe I'm already dying, little by little, the cold freezing its way toward my heart…_

A hand came to rest gently on Squall's right shoulder, the one he could still feel, and he looked up to see Quistis looking at him in concern. "Squall, are you alright?"

"I… I think so… Go on, Quis. I'll be right behind you." he replied.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

He nodded firmly, slowly dragging himself to his feet as Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin raced past him and into the Ragnarok's cargo bay. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Now go."

The blue mage flinched back as a few shots from the Galbadians sparked nearby, then without another word, she turned and headed quickly toward the ship, looking back only once as she did so. Quistis disappeared within a few moments into the vessel's cargo bay.

Squall pushed himself onward despite his body's sluggishness, but stumbled and would have fallen again had Zell not suddenly caught up to him and hauled him to his feet. Marticia was there, too, her blue eyes hard as she took in the attacking Galbadians. What would happen to those eyes, Squall thought, when they saw the devastation in the dead city that had once been her hometown?

A crack of gunfire jerked Squall from his thoughts, and he saw Irvine bringing up the rear along with Elias, firing off a few parting shots at the Galbadians as he did so. The sharpshooter's long coat trailed out behind him along with his reddish ponytail, and more than a few of the troops he fired at failed to get back up again. His rifle punctuated the air with a series of loud explosions as he launched a last salvo before ducking around the corner of the ship.

"Whew!" he grinned. "What a workout, eh?"

"Let's just get out of here," Squall sighed. He'd had about enough of Dollet for today.

Irvine glanced about in confusion as Zell and Marticia helped Elias into the ship's hold and from there to the med lab. "Is this it? Where's everyone else, Squall?"

"They're dead," he explained wearily. "I'll tell you and Selphie about it once we're on board and heading away from here."  
The color slowly drained from the cowboy's face. "Shit… even Xu… Rinoa…?"

Squall sighed heavily as he and Irvine hurried into the ship. "Xu's dead, along with everyone that was on the exam team except for Marticia and Elias… and Rinoa. Those goddamned Galbadians took her…"

"We'll get her back, Squall," Irvine murmured, yet his voice wavered, "and make those sons of bitches wish they were never even born…"

"Count on it," Squall growled, his eyes narrowing fiercely.

He made a mental note to finish debriefing Marticia after they were safely away from Dollet. She hadn't gotten the chance earlier to tell him what exactly had happened to Rinoa before those creatures had suddenly swarmed out of the satellite assembly and nearly killed them all There might not be much he could do for Ellone right now, much as it pained him to finally admit it, but he might still be able to figure out a way to save Rin. He swore he would.

"Selphie," he ordered as the lift deposited himself and Irvine onto the bridge, "bring us around."

"Alrighty! Here we go!" the coppery-haired girl replied brightly as the sharpshooter quickly sat down in the copilot's seat next to her.

The deck tilted slightly to the port side as Selphie brought the ship slowly about with a groaning of metal and the steady thrumming of the jet engines. Squall gazed intently out the forward cockpit windows and saw the communications tower slide into view directly ahead. Afternoon sunlight reflected off the sides of the structure and glittered across the tops of the waves in the sea far below the cliff.

Squall grimaced, hating what he had to do yet knowing he had no choice. "Quistis, ready the weapons and prepare to fire on my mark."

"_What?_" she stared at him unbelievingly, her jaw dropping.

"We can't let those creatures inside the tower escape," he explained, "or they'll kill even more people. Dollet isn't the only city around here, you know."

Irvine frowned darkly. "We're just gonna leave the bodies of our friends in there? Not try and bring 'em home for a proper burial?"

"If there was a way, I'd do it," Squall sighed, "but it's too dangerous to go back in there right now, and we don't have time to wait for Garden to send us reinforcements. Once the sun goes down, you can bet those monsters will slip out of there as soon as they can. I don't know about you guys, but I've seen enough death already today."

Zell scratched his head in thought. "But if we blow up the tower, won't that, uh, knock out all the radio and video communications too?"

The communications tower in Dollet was normally used to broadcast the radio signals with which the different television and audio stations, located mainly in Timber, brought their various programs and information to the world at large. Since the reemergence of Esthar from its long isolation, radio and video contact between nations had once more been possible. As yet, however, the Dollet tower was the only functioning structure of its kind in the world. Half a dozen similar facilities were currently being constructed in Balamb, Deling City, and FH among other places, but none were yet operational.

"I know, but it's already been deactivated anyway, and we don't have any means of powering it back up again," Squall replied wearily.

Selphie glanced over her shoulder at him, her small lips pursing in thought. "Can't we just, you know, turn it back on or something? Flip a switch somewhere, maybe?"

"Not without bringing in repair crews from Esthar or FH—the main and secondary power generators are both shot to hell. I saw them for a moment down in the assembly room just before we were attacked."

"It was the Galbadians, wasn't it?" Quistis surmised.

Squall nodded. "I'm almost certain of it. Who else would it have been? For whatever reason, they didn't want anyone to be able to use the tower."

"And if we destroy it, we'll be playing right into their hands," Seifer growled.

"We don't have a choice," Squall countered angrily. "I'm not going to let those things in there get away and kill anyone else. Is that understood?"

The former sorceress' knight simply shrugged indifferently. "It's your funeral, Leonhart. But don't expect your popularity to be very high when we get back to Garden."

"Whatever. Quistis, are the weapons online?"

The blue mage's fingers flew rapidly over her computer console as she manipulated the controls. "Yes, commander. Mass drivers, missiles, and particle beams armed and ready, sir."

Marticia gazed quietly through the forward viewports at the tower looming just ahead. "Are… are you sure this the only way…?"

"I'm sorry," Squall answered softly.

Rising to his feet, Irvine sighed and came around behind Selphie, gently laying his hands upon her shoulders as he glanced uncertainly at Squall. "I hope you know what you're doing, man. I really do."

"So do I, Irvine. So do I."

Squall swallowed heavily and nodded to Quistis. "Fire at will."

The blond woman depressed several buttons on her console, and streaks of bright yellow energy lanced out from the ship and began pummeling the communications tower along with a constant barrage of gunfire from the mass driver cannons. As the Ragnarok continued to circle the beleaguered facility, a pair of missiles sped away from the vessel's underbelly and slammed into the side of the building, followed by another set immediately afterward.

With a great rumbling like thunder, the tower crumpled inward and exploded into an angry ball of orange flame. Debris flew like deadly hail in all directions, and smoke billowed up from the building's shattered husk in thick gray clouds. Under the Ragnarok's relentless assault, what was left of the Dollet communications tower erupted into a series of blinding explosions that seared the afternoon sky with a livid tapestry of fire, ash, and smoke.

Squall didn't look away, but instead let the flaring brightness of the tower's fiery death temporarily blind him. Blinking his eyes to adjust his vision, he became aware that Irvine had removed his hat and quietly bowed his head. A single tear ran unnoticed down Quistis' cheek, and even Selphie remained uncharacteristically silent. Marticia gazed solemnly out the port side of the bridge, away from the devastation, while Zell slumped dejectedly against the side of the navigation console.

Grunting in disgust, Seifer spun around and strode angrily from the bridge, the thudding of his black boots jarringly loud in the uneasy stillness. Raijin and Fujin trailed along behind in his wake, their expressions downcast but determined. The posse disappeared a moment later as the lift carried them down into the ship's main deck with a hiss of machinery.

Squall sighed and turned quietly to Selphie. "Take us home."


	12. Chapter 12

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_  


* * *

**CHAPTER 12**  


* * *

  
In the periphery of her vision, just on the edge of sight, Marticia glimpsed the flaming husk of what once had been the Dollet communications tower. The focus of her gaze, however, was rooted out the window on the port side of the bridge where she stood, her gunblade clasped in sweaty fingers. As the ship banked away from the ruins of the tower, the devastated city itself slid inevitably into view. Marticia told herself that Squall and the others must have exaggerated, that the death and destruction couldn't possibly be as bad as they had made it out to be.

She was wrong.

When the dead city finally came into sight below her, Marticia had to grab the nearby bulkhead to steady herself as the world suddenly seemed to tilt out from under her. Blood pounded in her temples as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut to block out the abomination lying blackened and lifeless just a few thousand feet beneath her. Once, it had been a bustling, thriving metropolis, an affluent port city benefiting from trade with both Galbadia and Balamb, but now only death walked its empty, silent streets. 

Marticia slowly opened her eyes again, willing the unthinkable, horrific images away, but grim reality stubbornly refused to yield. Even from up here, the carnage was more than evident. Shattered glass lay everywhere like sparkling shards of crystal, and the broken windows and storefronts from whence they had come gaped open like mouths whose teeth had been brutally smashed apart. Rows of modest brick buildings, many now blackened and scorched, stood mutely like concrete gravestones over the masses of bodies that choked the cobblestone streets, and here and there a few fires burned and sent puffs of billowing smoke wafting up into the afternoon sky.

Doors had been torn down and trampled upon, and from what Marticia could see, many of the dead must have been frantically scrambling over each other to try and escape whatever had slaughtered them during the night. Drying blood was everywhere, pooled in the streets and sidewalks, spattered across and beneath the mangled bodies, and smeared across the walls and streetlamps and signs. Vultures circled over the city streets, some coming down to gorge themselves on the bloated corpses lying untended in the roads.

Marticia's stomach did a queasy turn, and suddenly she couldn't stand it any longer. Whirling away from the terrible sight of her ravaged hometown, she choked and ran to the turbolift. 

Slamming the release button, she slumped against the back wall as the lift descended into the ship's midsection. The mechanical humming of the vessel was somehow reassuring, a stable and unchanging drone that helped to counter the sudden, unsteady hammering of her heart against her ribs.

The lift deposited her into the ship's midsection, and from there she made her way unsteadily to the forward observation deck. Stumbling about halfway down the center aisle between the double rows of cushioned seats, Marticia brushed past one of the chairs on the port side and gazed numbly out the plate glass window as the smoldering remains of her hometown passed by underneath her like a stream of faded memories slipping away beyond any hope of recall.

Faces sprang up within Marticia's mind, friends and family she would never see again in this living world. Her mother, with her ebony tresses and dark, often worried eyes, had never fully accepted Marticia's training to be a SeeD, fraught with danger as such a career often was. The young woman thought sadly of her father and the sparring sessions they used to share, using wooden swords instead of real gunblades as he had taught her how and when to fight. The mischievous smile that had constantly seemed to play across her younger brother's lips would never show itself again, nor would his clear hazel eyes dance with mirth like they once did.

Marticia banged the heel of her fist against the window in frustration, her blue irises wet with unshed tears. She tried to blink them away, but a few escaped to roll unnoticed down her cheeks as she continued to gaze at the ruins sliding away so quickly beneath her, seeming to take with them into the shadows everyone she had ever loved or cared for. Her fist clenched tightly, a cold knot of anger and grief forming within her gut almost like a physical weight.

The ruins of Dollet slipped mercifully out of sight as the Ragnarok sped out over the ocean, and soon only the endless blue waters of the sea filled Marticia's vision as she continued to gaze out the portside window. Late afternoon sunlight glinted across the tops of the waves like thousands of shimmering mirrors glittering with the reflection of the slowly darkening sky, yet the young woman could not see it. In her mind she saw still the shattered remnants of a life that had been cruelly taken from her.

A mechanical hiss roused Marticia from her thoughts, and she glanced wearily up to see Squall make his way slowly onto the observation deck. At first, he didn't seem to be aware of her, apparently as absorbed in his own thoughts as she had been in hers. She straightened, however, and hurriedly wiped her cheeks to brush away any stray tears. Her cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment as the young commander at last met her gaze. That she had broken down and cried was bad enough, but to have him of all people find her here in such a vulnerable state was even worse.

"Sir, um, was… was there something you needed?" she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't think anyone was here. I'll go somewhere else."

"No, wait… you don't have to go," Marticia straightened and tried to reform the hardened shell she always wore around her emotions, the mental toughness that had seen her through so many troubles over the years. The feel of her gunblade hanging from her hip calmed her somewhat. "I don't mind if you stay. After all, we never did get the chance to finish my debriefing."

"Fine. Tell me about Rinoa. What happened to her? Where is she?"

Marticia sighed wearily and sat in a nearby chair to collect her thoughts. She resisted the urge to look out the window again, willed herself to remember the tumultuous events of the previous evening. What had been planned as a surprise night raid had failed utterly. Field exams weren't supposed to be like this, she thought. Dangerous, yes, but nothing a trained SeeD or a good candidate couldn't handle. Yet last night, it had all gone so very wrong, from the moment her squad and Rinoa's had first entered that damned communications tower.

"I'll try and tell you what I can, Squall," Marticia replied softly, "but I should probably start at the beginning and go from there…"

Squall nodded, easing himself tiredly into a chair across the aisle. "Go on."

"Everything went according to plan up until we got inside the tower. The town was quiet, like it always is at night—Dollet's big, but not really a nightlife kind of place like Deling City. Anyway, we only encountered a few Galbadians on the way, no more than we had expected…"

_______________________________________________________________________________________ 

  
Marticia leaped out of the aft section of the gunship and onto the shore, her boots thudding in the sand as she jogged across the beach. She could have easily found her way from here to the tower blindfold, so well did she know her hometown, and confidently she led her two companions toward the concrete stairs that rose up to the street level of the nearby city. Lights glowed softly in some of the buildings, though many others were dark as the inhabitants had already turned in for the night at this late hour.

Six Rapier-class SeeD gunships had been dispatched to Dollet, and Marticia had made adamantly sure that she was assigned to the team. Dollet was her home, and to see it overrun by Galbadians once again filled her with disgust and outrage. She fingered her expertly crafted crimson gunblade as she ran, the sweeping curves of the deadly weapon shimmering like blood in the wan starlight.

A fitting image, she thought, considering that it would soon spill the blood of her enemies.

Stealthily flitting up the stairs, Marticia glanced guardedly both ways down the cobblestone street as it turned the corner where the steps rose up from the beach to meet it. The road was empty in both directions, and while it was not uncommon for the streets to be fairly quiet this late at night, there were almost always a few people ambling by themselves along the sidewalks, lovers strolling together or perhaps a drunk stumbling his way into some dark alley. Marticia sighed uneasily, and though she figured the emptiness was probably due to the occupation, her disquiet lingered nevertheless.

None of the Galbadian forces had as yet detected the gunships, she knew, since the vessels had been configured for silent running. With luck, she and the rest of her team would be able to secure the tower with little fighting, and from there taking the town wouldn't be much harder. Galbadian troops were notoriously inept, so Marticia expected the operation to experience little difficulty.

Her squad and the Heartilly girl's candidate squad were the only Garden forces that would attack the tower directly. Xu and the rest of the team were to provide support and backup as necessary, pinning down the Galbadian troops within the town while Marticia and Rinoa led their respective squads into the tower to capture it from their enemies.

To further ensure the mission's success, the two squads would approach the tower separately so the Galbadians would have little chance of anticipating the attack. The two squads had arrived on shore in separate gunships, one after the other, and so Rinoa and her two fellow candidates were probably halfway to the tower by now. They wouldn't enter, however, until Marticia's squad had arrived, and would instead secure the perimeter around the facility.

With luck, the Galbadians would never know what hit them.

Marticia hurried over to the cover of a nearby alley and motioned for her fellow SeeDs to follow her. Layna Irons, a fiery redhead with a temper to match, quickly joined her, the young woman's footfalls making almost no noise on the deserted cobblestone road. A year ago, she and Marticia had graduated into SeeD together, and they had often been assigned to work side by side on the same missions. Though opposite in many ways—Layna was often boisterous and never hesitated to voice her honest opinion, while Marticia strove to remain cool, calm, and in control at all times—they had formed an unlikely yet surprisingly strong friendship.

Following almost on Layna's heels was Elias Yulmir, Marticia's other squad mate. The sandy-haired youth had become a SeeD only a few months ago, and while his gunnery skills were nearly on par with those of Irvine Kinneas, Elias had developed a reputation for rushing into things without thinking first. Such behavior had gotten him into trouble before, thus his assignment with the always by-the-book Marticia as squad leader. Squall and the headmaster hoped that her disciplined approach to duty would rub off on him and that she would keep him more or less in line.

"Think we'll meet any resistance from the radicals?" Elias whispered eagerly.

Marticia shrugged. "Most likely. I don't want to go looking for them, though. Remember, this is a sneak attack, and we're to engage in as few battles as possible en route to the tower, understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. So let's get moving already."

"Oh, and Elias?" Marticia added, "Don't go firing off that rifle of yours unless you have to. You know how loud that thing is, and a gunshot would give away our position to anyone nearby. Just let me and Layna handle any troops we come across until we get to the tower."

The eager young SeeD sighed. "But what if—"

"Hey, Eli, just stow it, alright?" Layna snapped tersely, every so often glancing furtively around the corner of the alley "You heard what Marty just said. Don't blow our goddamn cover just 'cause you're feeling a little trigger-happy, got it?"

"I just want to see a little action, that's all. I didn't become a SeeD to go sneaking around in the dark all the time, Layna."

Marticia glared dangerously at him, her blue eyes cold, before the other woman could reply. "You'll follow the orders I gave you, mister, or I'll report you to Xu and the commander as soon as we get back to Garden. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Elias replied glumly, muttering to himself under his breath.

"Then let's go. We don't have much time, and I don't want to keep Rinoa's squad waiting any longer than absolutely necessary."

Marticia stealthily led her two companions onward through the side streets and darkened alleys of the city. The three SeeDs said nothing, and around them all was quiet save for the distant sounds of battle just on the edge of hearing. Xu and the rest of the exam team must have engaged the main contingent of Galbadian troops on the far side of town by now, drawing the radicals' attention away from Marticia and her squad as they advanced unheard and unseen towards the darkened bulk of the communications tower just northwest of the city.

They encountered Galbadian patrols only twice, and both times Marticia and Layna quickly silenced them with blade and fist before they could sound an alarm. Elias quietly dragged the bodies out of sight, and the small group moved on without so much as a single word spoken between them. Before long, they had reached the winding path that climbed up the side of the cliff to where their destination lay. Marticia craned her neck to look at the imposing structure for a moment, then sighed grimly and started up the path, the others following in her wake.

Her unease, temporarily dispelled by the urgency of reaching the tower, filled her mind now as she thought of what had transpired so far. Everything seemed to be going as planned, but Marticia couldn't shake the sense of wrongness that gripped her, the subtle tug in her mind that insisted something was amiss. Perhaps it had to do with her GF's recent silence. Fenrir, a noble wolflike creature when summoned into the material plane, had been her guide and inner companion for as long as she could remember, but in the last few days he had gone mysteriously silent.

Half an hour later, Marticia and her squad were crouching behind some shrubbery that grew along the edge of the bluff overlooking the base of the tower, when there came a soft rustle of movement behind them. The female SeeD spun around, hand on her weapon, but let out a relieved breath when she saw it was only Rinoa and her candidate squad. The young sorceress, dressed like her companions in a standard SeeD candidate uniform and black leather boots, smiled reassuringly as she and her two companions stepped quietly out from behind a bend in the cliff face rising up overhead behind their backs.

"Sorry we startled you," Rinoa whispered, idly brushing a few strands of dark hair from her face. "Did you guys have any trouble on the way here?"

Marticia shook her head. "Nothing we couldn't handle. You?"

"The same. We bumped into a patrol or two but took them out before they could cause a ruckus."

"Is the perimeter secured?" the female SeeD asked.

Rinoa adjusted the curved blade mounted to her right wrist and nodded. "Yeah, it's all taken care of. There were guards here earlier, but we got rid of them."

"Alright, then," Marticia ordered briskly, "let's get this over with."

Within minutes the small group stood silently before the closed doors of the tower. Oddly enough, the facility looked to have been recently shut down, though Marticia couldn't quite figure out why. None of the small exterior lights emitted the customary pale glow that could normally be seen for miles in all directions, and the satellite assembly had been withdrawn into the bowels of the tower. The brooding structure loomed ominously before them, a slumbering behemoth in the night. A shiver passed through Marticia's body, and suddenly she felt very small. Her unease grew deeper.

Layna checked the lock panel next to the entry doors. "Looks like the emergency power's still on. Want me to get us inside?"

"Go ahead," Marticia nodded, "but be careful. Something doesn't feel right…"

"I will, Marty. I feel it too. Damn jitters…"

The red-haired SeeD punched in a series of digits, and moments later the doors slid open with a mechanized hiss. Marticia gripped her gunblade firmly, her index finger resting lightly on the trigger, as she inched her way toward the dark opening. Beside her, Rinoa cautiously brought up her arm and took careful aim with her blaster edge. The only illumination inside the tower came from the dim reddish glow of the emergency lights, giving what Marticia could see of the chamber a faint crimson hue amidst patches of impenetrable, murky shadows.

She and the others crept slowly inside, weapons ready, but oddly enough, Marticia could see no Galbadians. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as her fighter's instincts suddenly flared up inside her. Something was definitely wrong here, very wrong. She gripped her weapon a little tighter as she made her way toward the main lift that dominated the small entry chamber.

No sooner had she begun moving than all hell seemed to break loose.

A flurry of dark forms suddenly swarmed around them from out of the shadows, and before Marticia could bring her gunblade to bear on the mysterious creatures, she felt strong, rough hands grabbing her from several places at once. She fought like a woman gone made, writhing in her assailants' iron grip, and managed to pull the trigger of her gunblade.

The small explosion seemed to shatter her eardrums, tearing apart the stillness and the torso of one of her attackers. A quick glance nearby showed the rest of her companions in similar situations, and as she looked at her enemies she realized suddenly that they were men, Galbadians, but with uniforms that were utterly black, even their trademark domed helmets. No wonder Marticia and the rest of her companions hadn't seen them at first.

Wasting no time, she immediately grabbed her comlink from her pocket. "Xu, do you read? This is Marticia Gailey, of SeeD squad Beta Five! It's an ambush! I repeat, it's a trap! The Galbadians were waiting for us! We're inside the tower, but—"

A heavy weight suddenly smashed into the back of Marticia's skull, and she tumbled limply to the ground. Her comlink flew from her hand and was crushed with a loud snapping of metal and wiring beneath the booted foot of one of her attackers. The clash of metal on metal and explosions of gunfire filled her ears, and as she looked around she saw that her friends were sorely outnumbered. There must have been at least three dozen of those mysteriously garbed Galbadian troops, and unlike their less imposing counterparts, these men fought with skill and precision.

Marticia tried to rise, but the strength seemed to have left her muscles, and she could only watch helplessly as her friends were overcome one by one. The Galbadians didn't kill them, oddly enough, but instead sent them sprawling unconscious to the ground. In desperation, Marticia reached within herself to try and call forth Fenrir, but her GF would not respond, nor would any of the magic his power normally allowed her to wield. She felt something, like a wall in her mind or in her blood or both, keeping her from her longtime companion.

No wonder she and her friends had been overcome so easily, she thought. Without the power of the GF's, they were helpless.

The last of her companions that remained standing was Rinoa, who held her enemies at bay for the time being with a combination of her deadly blaster edge and her sorceress magic, which seemed to have been unaffected by whatever was interfering with Marticia's own GF and those of her friends. The young sorceress lanced out with forked streaks of lightning and searing gouts of orange flame. The troops fell back, repelled again and again by her magical assaults. Marticia could have sworn she saw a translucent pair of feathered wings sprouting from the other woman's back for a moment.

Suddenly Rinoa seemed to stiffen, and the aura of power around her began to fade. She rose into the air, but seemingly not of her own will, as she visibly struggled against whatever was holding her. The unseen force hurled her against the wall, and she cried out in pain as she slammed into it. She was spun around, pulled back toward the center of the room, and was thrown at the wall yet again. Once more the cycle was repeated, until after the last impact Rinoa slumped weakly to the floor as whatever had held her released its powerful grip. The wounded girl's eyes fluttered and slid closed.

Marticia reached with what little strength remained to her toward her gunblade, but froze as a chill breeze suddenly swept through the small chamber. The troops shuffled nervously, and the young woman's blood seemed to turn to ice within her veins. She lay still so as to not draw attention to herself, but let her eyes wander around the room even as her heart thudded loudly within her breast.

Her gaze settled onto a patch of darkness in a far corner, and it was from there that the bitter cold seemed to emanate. She felt, rather than saw, a presence with those shadows where the reddish glow of the emergency lighting could not reach. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she was just able to discern the faint outline of a robed, hooded figure gazing coldly back at her with feral, steely eyes. Suddenly she wondered whether this man, if man it was, knew that she was feigning unconsciousness. A shiver ran up her spine, and she had to look away.

Moments later, however, she found herself gazing into that dark corner once again as the mysterious figure slowly emerged from its concealment. An eerie stillness settled about the room, a cold silence broken only by the quiet, measured footfalls of the cloaked being's booted feet and the soft swishing of its ebony robes. Pale, white hands emerged from the sleeves, one grasping a shimmering circle of beaten gold no more than a few inches in diameter.

Kneeling next to Rinoa's fallen form, the man opened the golden device and then snapped it shut around the unconscious woman's slender wrist. Taking her in his arms, he slowly made his way to the middle of the chamber where several of the black-clad troops waited, apparently the leaders of this strange contingent. Marticia strained her ears to hear what was said.

The robed man spoke first, his voice a chill, crisply accented whisper that sent a shudder through Marticia's body. "Bring the others. The rest of you will remain here."

"Yes, sir," the Galbadian commander nodded, "What are you going to do with them?"

"That does not concern you. Now do as I have said."

One of the other troops picked up Marticia's crimson gunblade. She would have slugged him if she'd had the strength. "What about their weapons?"

"They will be of no use to them, so it matters not if they keep them," the cloaked figure answered softly. "Take them to the assembly chamber with their owners."

The commander saluted, and while four other men went to pick up the rest of her companions and their weapons, Marticia felt herself slung over the Galbadian commander's shoulder like little more than a bag of potatoes and carried through a small door on the far side of the chamber. Her skull filled with blood as she hung upside down, and only her refusal to give in kept her from losing her tentative grip on consciousness. Her long ponytail of dark hair hung in front of her face, but she was able to make out the trooper behind her, carrying Elias in the same way.

It seemed like hours before they finally got to the cavernous assembly chamber. Marticia winced as she was tossed idly onto the hard concrete floor, her shoulder smacking painfully against the unyielding surface. Her gunblade landed with a clatter nearby, and she gazed at it longingly for a moment before the hooded and cloaked figure crossed her line of sight to inspect the deactivated satellite array.

Suddenly he turned to the Galbadian commander and the four troops who had accompanied him down here as they moved to exit the chamber. "Do not be in such a hurry to leave, commander. I have one final task for you and your men to perform."

"What's that?" the other man asked dubiously.

Shifting his grip on Rinoa's body, the robed figure raised his arm. "You can die."

As Marticia watched in horror, gaping pits of blackness opened up beneath the feet of the doomed men. Withered, inhuman arms reached up and tore at them with curved talons, dragging them into the pits amidst their helpless screams. And through it all, the robed figure watched impassively, his eyes glittering coldly from within the depths of his hood. Moments later, it was over. The pits were gone, and the unfortunate Galbadians with them. Marticia had no doubt that the men who had remained in the entry chamber had suffered the same fate.

Shifting his gaze, the cloaked figure slowly stretched out his hand, and a line of purplish fire shot out from his fingertips. The flames slammed into the massive bulk of the communications tower's primary and secondary power generators, scorching them beyond repair until billowing clouds of smoke wafted up from the decimated machinery. As the robed man at last brought his arm down, the violet flames flickered fitfully and went out.

Marticia shivered, hardly able to believe what she had just seen. She started to reach for her gunblade, even though she knew it would make little difference against this hellish figure, but then froze as his gaze seemed to pass over her for a moment. Her heart seemed to stop, and what little resolve she possessed crumbled away under the scrutiny of that pitiless stare. She didn't move, didn't even dare to breathe until the man had looked away.

The door to the chamber slammed shut with a loud bang that reverberated within Marticia's ears, and a clearly audible click from the other side signaled the activation of the lock mechanism. The female SeeD realized with a shudder that she and her friends were trapped down here, at the mercy of the cold-hearted killer who had brought them here.

The mysterious figure raised his arm again, and to Marticia's utter disbelief, the air in front of him suddenly seemed to ripple like water. The robed man held Rinoa's unconscious form firmly with both hands and stepped carefully and deliberately through the mysterious undulating rupture, and all Marticia could do was watch helplessly as the distortion faded behind them, the air returning to normal as though it had never been otherwise.

Finally, the wounded SeeD could keep the fatigue away no longer. Her eyelids grew heavy, and her head seemed to be an intolerable weight upon her shoulders. Tired of fighting, sick of the insanity that had happened all around her when she was helpless to stop it, she let the darkness claim her at last. Her eyes closed, and awareness fled soon after.


	13. Chapter 13

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_  


* * *

**CHAPTER 13**  


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My profuse apologies for the long delay on this latest chapter. But before we go into it there are a few pronunciations you guys should be aware of:

Ghalein: [guh - LAY - in]

[i]Ne'uime[/i]: [nay - OO - may]

[i]Ja'sathra[/i]: [yah - SAH - thrah]

DISCLAIMER: Certain scenes within this chapter contain mature themes and suggestive content. Reader discretion is advised.

* * *

Rinoa slowly opened her eyes, but it was still as black as pitch all around her. The only indication that she was finally awake was the dank, musty odor that hung in the air, along with faint traces of some fouler stench whose probable source the young woman really didn't want to think about. She lay on something hard and unyielding and slightly damp. It felt like a stone floor.

Her body ached all over, a dull throb deep in her bones that would not leave. She remembered something grabbing her with what felt like invisible hands, so strong they might have been made of iron, and throwing her again and again at the unyielding metal wall of the communications tower. With the memory of each painful impact, Rinoa winced inwardly and gently put a hand to her sore ribs and shoulder as they continued to throb with each breath that escaped her lips.

Suddenly she became aware that a part of herself was missing, a subtle warmth in her blood that she noticed now only in its absence. No, not absence, because she could still feel it, faintly, just on the edge of perception, but it was still there. It had merely been suppressed, that was all. Her power, the legacy of the sorceress, had been effectively muted.

The cold metal band she felt around her left wrist answered the unspoken question of how.

Ironic, she thought, that her unique magic should be suppressed by the very device she had once sought to imprison a different sorceress with in the same way. Rinoa knew exactly what it was that had been fitted onto her arm, of course. She had carried one once herself, before she had become a sorceress, in a hastily conceived plan to subdue the tyrant that had once taken control of her native city. The young woman had never expected to wear an Odine bangle herself, but she couldn't deny the reality of the device wrapped around her lower arm or her inability to call upon her sorceress powers.

Such was the bangle's purpose, after all.

Though she knew it was useless, Rinoa reached with her other hand and grasped at the bangle to try and find the catch that kept it in place. No sooner had she touched the metal, however, than a sudden, brief shock of powerful electrical energy exploded into her grasping fingers. She yanked her hand away, gasping at the sharp pain, and sucked ruefully at her singed digits. So much for that option. The bangle had been designed to keep the wearer from simply taking it off, after all. Any contact with the outer surface of the device for longer than a few seconds would result in a much stronger, perhaps even lethal, shock to any sorceress touching the bangle.

Rinoa sighed in resignation and crawled slowly on her hands and knees along the floor until she reached a stone or concrete wall just a few feet away. Apparently she was in some kind of prison or cell, though how she had gotten here she did not know. But whoever or whatever had rendered her unconscious must have brought her here somehow, for some reason, and Rinoa intended to find out why. She had to find out what had become of her friends, too. The last she had seen of them, they had been lying unconscious on the floor of the tower's entry chamber. Those strange Galbadian troops had ambushed them, and only Rinoa's sorceress powers had enabled her to hold out for as long as she did.

Yet something had overcome her, something much more powerful than she was.

At the thought of that terrible presence, Rinoa shivered in spite of herself. She had caught a glimpse of cold, feral eyes glittering in the dark, but little more. Yet the sensations of malice, of cunning, emanating from that unseen figure chilled her to the bone even now. Who was it that had overpowered her so easily, and why? Rinoa swallowed heavily, not quite sure she wanted to find out the answers, yet in her gut knowing that she would, soon enough.

Leaning tiredly with her back against the wall, the young sorceress tried to figure out how she had gotten into this mess in the first place, although she had a fairly good idea where it might have begun. For months now, she had insisted on training to become a SeeD just like her other friends, much to Squall's discomfiture. She had tried several times to explain it to him, but somehow she and her husband had always ended up arguing instead. Why couldn't he understand? What was his problem?

For about six months now, Rinoa had been the SeeD commander's wife and had watched so many times as he had gone off on some mission or other and left her behind. Those lonely nights, when she lay alone in bed wondering if he would return, had always gnawed relentlessly at her inside. Squall had always insisted on taking the most dangerous missions, preferring to handle them himself instead of sending a detachment of less experienced SeeDs to deal with them.

Rinoa wanted to be out there with him, fighting by his side, but because she wasn't a SeeD, she couldn't. She no longer had the excuse of being his client to use to order him around, although being his wife should have been more than enough, at least in her mind. The only opportunity she'd had lately to use her fighting and magic skills had been during her workout sessions in the training center with Quistis and Selphie and sometimes Xu as well.

Eventually she had gotten so sick of being left behind at home like a good little wife that she had gone to Headmaster Cid and Headmistress Edea, who had privately advised Squall that it would be in his and Rinoa's best interest to allow her to begin training as a SeeD. He had [i]not[/i] been happy about it and had let Rinoa know that quite clearly once they had returned to the privacy of their own quarters. It was one of the few times the young sorceress could remember she and her husband ever shouting at one another. Squall had subsequently stormed out and spent the night at Zell's.

_I'm gonna be a SeeD, Squall, whether you like it or not!_

That was the last thing she'd said to him on his way out, although now she was beginning to regret those angry words. Over the next few months, as her accelerated training had progressed, Rinoa had felt a distance slowly growing between herself and Squall. It had begun on the night that he had walked out, the night that she had finally gotten what she wanted. The chance to become a SeeD, to put some meaning, some excitement, back into her life.

But at what cost?

"So, you are awake, little sorceress," a soft, cold voice suddenly whispered, its chill tones cutting through the stillness like a scythe.

Rinoa gasped, startled, and looked around, but she could see nothing except the impenetrable blackness of her unlit prison. The slivers of cold fear that worked their way up her spine, however, told her well enough who spoke. More out of a desire to keep her sudden fear from overpowering her than to really confirm what she already knew, Rinoa swallowed heavily, moistening her dry mouth, and called out to the sinister figure she knew hid somewhere in the blackness.

Her voice trembled a little when she finally managed to speak. "W-Who are you?"

"You know who I am," the voice answered in its measured, sinuous rhythm.

Suddenly, Rinoa became aware of eyes looking back at her from the shadows. Two eyes, their chill, oddly pink irises seeming to bore straight into her soul, silently observed her, and the young sorceress' will faltered under their pitiless and unyielding scrutiny. She looked away, her blood turning to ice in her veins, and with a shiver wondered just how long her captor might have been watching her here in the dark.

"A long time, Rinoa," the whispered voice answered her unspoken question. "A very long time. Three hours, to be precise."

The young woman stared incredulously. Had he just read her mind? Frantically she tried to suppress her skittish thoughts, her musings of Squall and of her imprisonment and the fate of her companions and a thousand other stray thoughts, grabbing her temples with her hands and shaking her head vehemently in protest. A frightened moan escaped her lips. What good was it, anyway, if he really could read her mind? Wouldn't he know exactly what she was doing?

And what had he been watching her for? Why had he only chosen to reveal himself now?

Rinoa shivered as she thought of those eyes looking at her in the dark, probing her perhaps for weaknesses, for those long hours before she had finally awoken. Those eyes had no doubt seen her futile attempt to remove the slim golden bangle that had effectively crippled her, and she wondered if her captor had been amused at that useless struggle to escape.

Looking once more at the eyes hovering in the dark, the raven-haired young woman realized that she could make out the faint outline of a human form shrouded in thick ebony robes, and that those cold, cunning eyes stared out at her from within the depths of a wide hood. The man's face, however, remained cloaked in shadows, and Rinoa suddenly wasn't sure if she really wanted to see it.

"Where am I?" she wondered aloud, glancing around her into the gloom of her cell. "Where… where have you taken me?"

The eyes continued to scrutinize her. "You will find out soon enough, little sorceress, when I choose to make it known to you."

Rinoa swallowed, dreading the answer to her next question. "A-And my friends? What did you do to them? Where are they?"

"They are dead," the whispered voice intoned softly. "There were no survivors in Dollet, SeeD or otherwise. I have seen to that."

Her eyes widening, the young woman leaned weakly against the wall, doubling over and struggling to breathe as the full meaning of her captor's statement hit her like a fist slamming hard into her gut. She clenched her fists tightly, her nails gouging painfully into the skin of her palms as she vehemently shook her head in utter denial.

"No!" Rinoa shouted angrily. "That's not true! It can't be!"

The eyes drew a little closer, and Rinoa shrank back under their penetrating gaze. "You know it is, Rinoa. And you know why."

Of course she knew. Slumping dejectedly as she at last understood the sickening truth, Rinoa sighed bitterly. She was the most well-known sorceress in the world, and despite her inexperience, the most powerful as well. It had never even occurred to her that there might still be people out there who would seek to use that power for their own ends. She had hoped such madness was finally over with after the defeat of Ultimecia, but…

Rinoa shivered, hating herself for her shortsightedness. How many people had paid for it? Maybe Squall was right, she reluctantly admitted. Maybe she shouldn't have tried to become a SeeD. Many of her friends and companions, as well as who knew how many innocent people, might still have been alive but for her own stubbornness. The young sorceress grimaced, suddenly nauseous as she truly began to comprehend the enormity of what had happened and her own responsibility for it.

"What do you want from me?" she murmured. "What did you bring me here for?"

Her captor didn't answer at first, but instead slowly drew back his hood with a soft rustling of cloth. In the murky dimness, Rinoa was at last able to make out his features. The first thing she noticed was his bald scalp, utterly devoid of even a single hair. His skin was chalky white without a trace of color, and those strangely disturbing pink eyes gazed cunningly at her from beneath hairless brows.

"You ask many questions, little sorceress. Are you truly prepared to learn the answers? Or will such knowledge instead drive you mad?"

Rinoa could find no words to say to him. Instead, she let out a startled gasp, unable to keep from staring at his colorless face. She had never seen an albino before, and the sight disturbed her more than a little. She struggled to rein in her straying thoughts lest her captor somehow discerned them, but she might as well have tried to stop her heart from beating.

"My appearance startles you," the man whispered, his white lips just barely edging upward into a faint, sardonic smile.

Suddenly, as she kept looking at him, Rinoa realized that she knew him. Or rather, knew of him. "You're Josef Deling's bloodhound, aren't you? His new advisor? I've heard rumors about you…"

"Doubtless they are exaggerated," he replied dismissively, "yet not entirely without some small measure of truth, I suppose. I am, as you have surmised, currently in President Deling's service."

"What does he want with me?" Rinoa wondered.

The albino leaned closer. "Your death. By means of a public execution."

"What?" she nearly shrieked, the color draining from her face. "Why would he do that? He's been supportive of Garden and SeeD ever since he took over Galbadia at the end of the war! Why… why would he want to kill me?"

"A facade, my lady. He is more like his late brother than you know. Who do you think it was that ordered the seizure of the Dollet tower in the first place, knowing SeeD forces would undoubtedly come and that you would be with them? Among other things, he desires the extermination of all sorceresses, beginning with you."

Rinoa's heart sank as she understood the truth of her captor's words. "When will it happen?"

"You are to be executed in two weeks at the Grand Plaza in front of Deling City's presidential palace," he explained. His eyes suddenly narrowed, however, and his cunning smile deepened ever so slightly. "Or so it will be believed."

"What do you mean?" the young sorceress asked apprehensively.

The strange man slowly reached out and touched his fingertips to Rinoa's cheek. She shuddered at the cold sensation of his skin against hers, yet in spite of herself, a strange heat suddenly flared within her. Knowing it for what it was, she fought to suppress it, disgusted that she should feel such a thing. Time seemed to slow as she fought inside herself, but the heat would not go away.

His eyes gripped hers intently, the smile gone. "You are far too useful to be thrown away at the whim of a madman, little sorceress. I have other things in mind for you… for us…"

"Won't you be going against your master, then?" Rinoa questioned.

Her captor's expression suddenly hardened. "I serve but one Master, my lady, and it is _not_ Deling."

The young woman frowned in uneasy puzzlement. "If it's not him, then… then who is it?"

"Pray you do not live to find out," he replied coldly.

An icy sliver of fear worked its way slowly up Rinoa's spine as she pondered the albino's words. He himself was frightening enough, a presence both disturbing and yet strangely entrancing to her as well, though she could not explain why. She tried to remember Squall, to see his familiar and comforting features, but the image dissolved from her mind in the wake of the heat she felt within her at her captor's soft touch. Rinoa shuddered, but whether it was from that strangely inflamed sense of desire or from her own self-loathing in response to it, she could not say.

"Who… who _are_ you…?" she whispered, her lips trembling with each syllable.

The hardness had passed from her captor's face, though he still wore that sense of cold, calculating menace like a cloak about his shoulders. He let his fingertips slide ever so slowly across her cheek, his eyes locked on hers, and the heat within her suddenly grew more fervent. Why was she feeling like this in the first place? In that part of her mind that was still rational, Rinoa frantically tried to understand what was happening to her and why, but could find no answers.

His voice was a soft, cold caress to her ears. "I am known as Ghalein, my lady. And I have been waiting a long, long time for you…"

"For… for me…?" she stammered uncertainly.

Suddenly he pulled away, and Rinoa shivered as the heat inside her began to fade. Although she was relieved that the disturbing sensations seemed to have passed, a part of her still longed for them to return. Ashamed, she struggled to bring forth in her mind every image of Squall she could possibly think of, but they disappeared all too soon, overwhelmed by the powerful memory of that sensual heat that had seemed to simmer just beneath her skin.

"However," he continued, ignoring her question, "you are not yet ready."

Slowly backing away from her, Ghalein motioned with his arm, and on the far side of the room, a door slowly creaked open, the groaning of its hinges unnaturally loud in the stillness. Rinoa could see the dim illumination of electric lamps set in the concrete walls outside her cell, and by the style of the construction she deduced that she was somewhere in the labyrinthine maze of sewers that sprawled beneath Deling City like the web of some monstrous, terribly bloated arachnid.

Through the door lumbered about half a dozen men, their tall, muscled forms laced with old scars and clothed in drab garments of brown and gray. Stubble covered their jaws, and the lustful, hungry gazes that swept over her told Rinoa well enough what they intended. One of the brutes, his unkempt brown hair hanging down to his broad shoulders, leered at her. Rinoa shuddered.

Ghalein quietly addressed the men. "Do as you wish with her, so long as she lives. Find me when you have sated yourselves, and you will receive your payment."

"_No!_" Rinoa's eyes widened, and her face paled. "You can't do this! Please!"

Trembling, she wobbled to her feet and backed as far away from the approaching men as she could, her heart thudding loudly within her ribs. Before long, however, her back thudded against the rear wall of the cell, and she could go no further. As her tormentors began to close in from all sides, Rinoa noticed Ghalein melting back into the shadows, his cold, pink eyes locked on hers.

He faded from sight without a word.

"Come 'ere, missy," the long-haired man drawled, grinning eagerly, "and let's have some fun, yeah?"

The crude remark abruptly jolted Rinoa from her thoughts and back to the nightmarish situation she had been cruelly thrust into. Without her magic to aid her, she was practically defenseless, but she swallowed heavily, clenched her fists tightly, readying herself for the one chance she would have to get the hell out of this godforsaken place and away from these terrible men.

They had left the doorway wide open.

As soon as the first man reached for her, Rinoa's leg shot out in a swift, hard kick to his crotch. The long-haired brute immediately doubled over, clutching his groin in both hands, and howled in pain just as she had known he would. Not wasting a moment, the desperate sorceress raced madly toward the open door, barely managing to dodge the grasping hands of the other men as they tried to catch her. She was almost there, just a few more yards…

The door slammed shut before her seemingly of its own accord, however, and Rinoa's momentum carried her into it before she could stop. The sudden impact knocked the wind out of her, and she stumbled backward a few steps, catching her breath in ragged gasps as what little light there had been fled from the room, plunging it in murky shadows.

Her fingers desperately feeling along in the dark for the door, Rinoa came across the metal handle and yanked furiously on it. The door refused even to budge, however, held fast by some spell she knew her captor must have put on it. Her blood suddenly running cold, Rinoa realized with a sinking feeling that this was exactly what he had intended in the first place, dangling a little hope before her only to snatch it cruelly away at the last instant.

Rough, brutally strong hands suddenly grabbed her arms and shoulders, and with a startled shriek she was abruptly thrown against the wall. Rinoa barely had time to gasp in pain as those horrible men closed in on her. The sound of ripping fabric filled her ears as the brutes began to savagely tear her clothes from her body in spite of her constant struggling. She tried desperately to wriggle free of their iron grip, but then a fist abruptly flew out of nowhere and smashed her in the face.

Rinoa slumped weakly against the wall as her head began to spin woozily, and her cheek and jaw ached horribly from the blow. She looked up to see the long-haired man grinning savagely back at her mere inches away. His breath smelled of alcohol and other, more foul things, and a mere whiff of it was enough to make Rinoa nauseous. He squeezed her breast painfully tight in one hand and in a single, swift motion, he slit open with a knife the front of her tattered uniform.

"Now the fun begins, missy," the long-haired man grinned lustfully.

As he pulled her down to the floor in spite of her attempts to resist him, Rinoa began to scream. She continued to do so as he ripped away what remained of her clothing, and as the other men held her writhing form down, he forcefully yanked her legs apart and reached for the buckle of his own pants. Soon he was atop her, and in those horrible moments Rinoa was thankful at least that in the murky blackness she could only barely see his face and those of the other men awaiting their turns.

Her terrified screams echoed through the darkness for hours  


* * *

  
Ellone jerked awake from the nightmare with a startled scream.

The cold enveloped her, flowed through her blood and bones like it always did when the nightmares came. She shivered uncontrollably and winced as spasms of pain shot through her injured body. As the icy chill flowed through her veins like some fell spirit seeking to devour her from within, she found herself in a sitting position, her arms crossed beneath her breasts as she continued to tremble with the unearthly cold. The still unhealed lacerations on her arms burned fiercely, and her broken wrist ached even as she gently cradled it with her other hand.

_Storms approach. Shadows grow long. The Seal weakens._

The voices, those maddening whispered voices she had hoped never to hear again, once more filled her mind with their unearthly chanting like a chorus of the damned. What were they, and why did they keep troubling her? Ellone clutched herself tightly as her body shook with the cold that coursed through her body and the chill voices flitting maddeningly through her mind like a host of tormented spirits inextricably bound to her subconscious.

_He is coming._

A strong yet gentle hand placed upon her shoulder tugged Ellone from her dark thoughts, and she glanced up to see Vincent's reassuring, if typically inscrutable, countenance looking back at her in concern. He must have heard her scream and come in while she was shivering and lost in the fragments of her dreams, she realized. Though the voices began to fade, she still trembled with the unearthly chill her nightmare had left behind.

"Ellone," Vincent inquired softly, "what troubles you?"

She took a breath to try and calm herself, but the icy cold in her veins would not leave. "It… it was a nightmare, j-just… just a bad dream. I'm so c-cold, though… it… it always… always f-feels like this… when the dreams c-come… like I'm f-freezing inside…"

"I will see what may be done to warm you," he replied.

Crossing over to the far side of the bed, Vincent took an iron poker from beside the hearth and used it to stir the embers of the fire. Adding a few more logs to the flames, he watched for a moment as the orange tongues of heat flickered and grew, feeding hungrily on the fresh wood. Satisfied, Vincent turned back to Ellone and carefully wrapped the blankets close about her shoulders.

She suddenly felt herself picked up, blankets and all, as Vincent gently took her in his arms and laid her gingerly in front of the fireplace upon one of the thick hand-woven rugs that adorned the hardwood floor of the room. At last, a little warmth began to slowly seep back into her body, although the unnatural cold still filled her body with its icy touch.

"Is that better?" Vincent asked.

Elle managed a weak smile in spite of her shivering. "A little, but… I'm still… so cold…"

After a moment, she became aware that Vincent had sat down beside her, his back against the side of the bed. Ellone felt his arms reach hesitantly around her and draw her near to him, bringing her in front him and closer to the warmth of the fire. Heat began to flow into her again, both from the fire and from Vincent's body behind her, and her trembling gradually began to ease.

For a long while, neither of them spoke, and Ellone contented herself with just resting her head against Vincent's chest and letting the heat of his body fill her again as it had done during their frantic ride here last night when he had held her close on the chocobo for that very purpose. She didn't mind the close contact with him, really. It was, she thought, rather nice.

Elle glanced warmly up at him. "Thank you, Vincent. That really was sweet of you."

"I… only did what I thought necessary," he replied, a bit uncomfortably.

"Well, either way, I'm grateful. Those dreams scare me so much, but I can't even remember them hardly at all… and the cold is always there when I wake up…"

At the memory of those nightmares, Ellone shuddered inwardly and let her gaze lose itself somewhere in the flickering orange flames in the hearth. What were these dreams she kept having, and why did they trouble her so? She sensed that the answers could be important, but whatever they might be, she had no clue save for the whispered words of those terrible voices.

Vincent's arms tightened protectively about her waist. "How long have these visions troubled you?"

"I don't know, a week or so, maybe," she replied. "It's been hard to get any real sleep since then, you know? Every time I try, the dreams come back, sooner or later."

"Do you remember anything of them?"

She shook her head. "Not much, I'm afraid. Just bits and pieces, that's all. Fire and darkness, storms and shadows, but what they all mean, I don't know."

"Perhaps there is a link between them and your pursuer," Vincent pondered.

Ellone shivered at the memory of that terrifying cloaked figure, the emptiness of its masked, eyeless face. Twin blades, forged of cold steel and hellish fury, their slightly curved edges glittering in the dimness of the Trabia snowfields. She remembered now that one of the swords had been a bit longer than the other, but both their hilts had been adorned with emblems of death and darkness, skulls and winged horrors too hideous to name. Yet names came to her now, words in a tongue she did not know but whispered as fluently as though she'd always known it.

"_Ne'uime… Ja'sathra…_" she murmured softly.

"What did you just say?" Vincent asked, frowning in puzzlement.

Elle blinked, wondering the same thing. "I… I don't know… how I know it, but… that cloaked figure… his two swords that he cut me with, they had names. _Ne'uime_… and _Ja'sathra_…"

He stirred behind her. "What do they mean?"

"Pain… Suffering…" she whispered, "that's what they mean. Pain was… the longer one, Suffering the shorter, I remember…"

A sudden image flashed in her mind, the hunter's twin blades descending upon her in a rapid blur of motion. Her arm and abdomen burned with remembered pain as she saw again the haunting emptiness of the cloaked figure's eyeless sockets, the expressionless steel mask with her own fear-stricken face caught in its distorted reflection.

"Are you alright?" Vincent asked.

Ellone buried her cheek in his shoulder. "Just… bad memories, that's all. That thing… I'm afraid it'll come after me again…"

"I will not let it harm you, Ellone. That is what I am here for."

"Are you sure?" she wondered, gazing up at him.

He nodded, his tone softening ever so slightly. "I promise."

Sighing in relief, Elle felt her fear abate somewhat as her fatigue at last caught up with her. The heat from the fire and from Vincent must be making her drowsy, she thought, and her lids began to grow heavy. Soon it was all she could do to keep them open, and though she knew she should rest for what was left of the night, she didn't want this moment to end just yet.

Leaning so close against him, Elle could hear his heart beating softly within his chest, and the sound reassured her with its steady, unchanging rhythm. She let it lull her onward into dreamless slumber, her eyelids drooping until they at last slid shut. Tomorrow she would start limping around out of bed, taking the first real steps toward her recovery, but for now she simply slept and had no dreams.


	14. Chapter 14

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION_  
_**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_  
  


* * *

**CHAPTER 14**  


* * *

Snow fell gently from leaden skies slowly darkening with the gradual onset of twilight, the tiny flakes buffeted and tossed playfully about in the cool wind whispering its hidden secrets through the clusters of pine trees that dotted the village here and there. Children ran and laughed and threw snowballs at one another as their parents called them in for supper, and in the warm glow of the streetlamps, a car or two carefully made its way down the slush-filled road.

It was so much like Winhill, yet at the same time so very different.

Ellone sighed, memories of her hometown rising unbidden in her mind as she leaned wearily against the rail of the front porch and gazed out at the little town slowly settling in for the evening. Snow was uncommon in Winhill, though not unheard of, and on those winter days when the chill had plummeted low enough for the white flurries to spill down from the heavens, Elle had often sat by the front window in her little home, a steaming mug of hot chocolate grasped in her slender fingers, and had watched as the world outside had gradually been blanketed in whiteness.

She thought then of one particular winter, back when she had been a little girl living with Raine and Uncle Laguna before she had been taken away. Laguna had bundled her up one frigid afternoon and taken her sledding in the hills just outside of town. With the wind whipping in her face, little Elle had squealed with delight as she and Laguna had sped down the modest slopes and onto the wide, icy fields of grass and snow at their base. She had sat in front of him on the makeshift sled, his arms securely around her middle as the two of them had practically flown down the hillside.

Winhill was still a quiet little place even today, surrounded by undulating waves of bright green grasses that often reached halfway up to Elle's knees. Her little home on the edge of town overlooked those endless fields and the bluffs beyond them. She had never been able to bring herself to stay in Raine's old house or her own, however, for the bittersweet memories of her younger days still lingered there too much for her to ever really feel comfortable in those places.

The soft creaking of the front door swinging open behind her brought Ellone from her thoughts, and she turned to see Tifa carefully making her way toward her, a mug of hot chocolate grasped in each hand. In spite of the extra weight from the child growing inside her, Tifa looked remarkably fit for a woman who was six months pregnant. She stood straight, the swelling in her abdomen less prominent than what it might have been in another woman.

Tifa smiled and offered Elle one of the mugs. "Care for something hot to drink?"

"Thank you," Ellone nodded gratefully, "I'd like that."

Gingerly taking a mug with her good hand, Elle closed her eyes for a moment as she inhaled the sweet aromas of chocolate and cinnamon, and her fingers began to warm from the heat passing through the glazed white mug's ceramic surface from the steaming liquid inside. Her arms and chest still ached, but many of the smaller cuts had already healed in the few days that she'd been here thanks to the potions Tifa had given her at regular intervals as well as that herbal tea.

Ellone took a sip of the hot liquid, savoring the welcome flavors of rich chocolate and the little marshmallows that floated in a cluster along one side of the mug. Heat filled her throat and belly, warding away some of the cold that had seeped into Elle's body from being out here for so long, and for a moment she could almost believe she was back home in Winhill on one of those rare winter days that saw the countryside blanketed in whiteness.

"It's wonderful, Tifa," Elle grinned, "You must have been reading my mind or something."

The other woman chuckled as she sipped her own drink. "Is that so?"

Elle nodded. "I was just thinking about home, that's all. I like to drink this stuff sometimes when it gets cold and just watch the snow come down for a while."

"I know what you mean," Tifa smiled, easing herself carefully onto the wooden swing bench nearby. "So do the clothes fit alright?"

Earlier in the week, Tifa had given a few of her old clothes to Ellone for her to keep, since the injured young woman's own garments had been torn and bloodied from her fall that terrible night. The dark green blouse Elle wore now was a little big for her, even though beneath it her chest was still wrapped in bandages to keep her bruised, aching ribs protected, but it warded off the early evening chill well enough. Tifa hadn't had any long skirts, so Ellone wore instead a pair of faded blue jeans. Soft leather boots protected her feet from the cold, and fewer wrappings bound her twisted ankle now that it had slowly begun to heal over the last few days.

"They're fine, thanks," Elle replied gratefully to her friend's inquiry.

Tifa nodded in satisfaction. "I was hoping they would be. Your own clothes are pretty much ruined, I'm afraid, what with the wet and the blood and all that. There really wasn't anything I could do."

"It's alright, Tifa. I know you did what you could," Ellone reassured her, "and I do like the clothes you've given me. They're very nice outfits."

"Thanks, Elle. What brings you out here, by the way?" 

Taking another sip of her hot chocolate, Ellone sighed tiredly. "Just wanted to get a little fresh air. I've been cooped up in this house most of the week, after all."

It had been six days since Elle had first woken up that fateful night to find her wounds bandaged and Vincent watching over her. She had only gotten back on her feet just the other day, hobbling around a little bit and leaning on Vincent's good arm for support. Her bruised ribs and injured ankle still throbbed painfully with every limping step she took, but Ellone was determined to heal as quickly as she possibly could and find her way home.

"I understand," Tifa replied with a slight grin. "I'd probably feel the same way myself if I were in your position. Worse, actually. I'm a fighter, you know, and fighters are always the worst patients. Even now, I feel a bit restless sometimes, being pregnant and all and having nothing to do these days but mind the inn and have my baby…"

Here and there over the past several days, Tifa and Cloud had mentioned how, several years ago, they and their other friends had traveled across the world together to stop a madman and a powerful corporation from ravaging the planet. Ellone had noticed that her friends only spoke in the most general terms about it, perhaps hoping that by recalling such widespread events, it might jog Elle's memory or at least help her understand where she was. As fascinating as her friends' stories often were, Elle knew nothing of the events, people, or places they spoke of.

Elle nodded. "You miss the adventures sometimes, don't you?"

"Of course!" Tifa agreed. "It was dangerous back then, but in a way it was also fun, you know? Running around the world, fighting monsters, and just living in the moment. I still work out every morning, but… it's just not the same anymore…"

"You'll be okay," Ellone assured her. "Besides, look at it this way—you're about to go on a whole different kind of adventure now, right?"

The other woman smiled fondly at her enlarged abdomen. "I suppose you do have a point, Elle."

It was with a certain amount of jealousy that Ellone looked at her friend, unanswered longings filling her heart. She hated being alone, hated her power for robbing her of so many things that she might otherwise have been able to have. Things like love, a family of her own, or just being able to live without people always seeming to shrink back from her ever so slightly whenever she passed them on the street. She silently chided herself for her weakness, but couldn't push those uncomfortable emotions quite as far away as she would have liked.

"So, has Red found anything yet?" Elle asked quietly.

The intriguing and intelligent beast who went by the name of Red had promised to look in the vast books and libraries of his native settlement, a place called Cosmo Canyon, to see if he could find anything that might help her. After the last nightmare she'd jerked awake from a few nights ago, Elle had managed to contact him the next day and had informed him of what she had experienced in hopes that it might somehow aid him in his search.

Tifa sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. You've set him quite a riddle, Ellone. I wouldn't worry too much, though. There's no one better able to help you find the answers you need than him."

"I appreciate it. But I just wish I could at least contact Squall or Uncle Laguna to let them know I'm alright. They must be worried sick by now…"

"We'll get you home," Tifa assured her. "In the meantime, I should be getting back to work."

Ellone finished off the last of her hot chocolate, savoring the warm, sweet flavors of the rich, brown liquid, and handed the mug gratefully back to her companion. "Thank you for joining me, Tifa, and for the drink. It was delicious."

"You're welcome, Elle. And if you need anything, you know I'll be next door at the inn. The evening crowd should be making its way inside about now, so I should get going. Are you going to stay out here much longer?"

"I think so," Ellone nodded. "I want to keep moving about, you know?"

Tifa carefully rose to her feet, a mug in either hand, and looked at Elle with concern. "Alright, but you should probably bundle up a bit more if you do. The temperature here drops drastically once the sun goes down, and that blouse won't be enough to keep the cold out once it does."

"I'll keep that in mind, then," Elle replied dutifully.

"Good," the other woman nodded. "If you feel up to it, you're welcome to stop by the inn and see me. I'm usually behind the bar out in the common room."

Elle smiled. "I think I just might. It's not that far, after all, and the walk would do me good."

"Okay then. I'll see you in a bit!"

As her friend carefully stepped off the porch and made her way down the snowy lane toward the inn, Ellone leaned comfortably back in her chair. It was nice to finally have someone her own age she could talk with. She had never gotten to know Selphie or Quistis that well, or any of the others of the orphanage gang for that matter except for Squall. They were all at least several years younger than her, with their own lives and friendships to worry about, and despite how much she cared for those whom she had always thought of as her younger siblings, she had never gotten very close to any of them. Not even Squall knew her quite as well as he thought he did.

Tifa was different, although Ellone could not exactly say why. Perhaps because the young woman had never once complained about the imposition upon herself and her husband that Elle felt her presence brought, and that despite the strangeness of her story and the disorientation Ellone felt about her surroundings, Tifa sought to help her as best she could. Even though she had only known her for a few days, Ellone trusted her implicitly.

The sound of boots crunching through the nearby snow drew Elle's attention back to the present, and she looked up to see Vincent making his way toward her from around the corner of the house. In spite of herself, Ellone ran her good hand self-consciously through her short brown hair and felt her stomach flutter ever so slightly. The memory of falling asleep with his arms snugly around her sprang unbidden into the forefront of her mind. She had woken the next morning back in bed, realizing that he must have gently placed her there once she had drifted off. Elle had never forgotten the pleasant sensation of him holding her, however, and she thought of it again now almost without realizing it.

The last rays of the sun were just dipping beneath the horizon as Vincent joined Ellone on the front porch, standing nearby in his typical stoic demeanor. As always, he dressed almost entirely in black save for his crimson headband, and a thick black cloak adorned his shoulders in place of the red cape he had once worn. At either hip hung a loaded handgun, and across his back was strapped the double-barreled shotgun he referred to as the Death Penalty.

Elle had, in the few days she'd known him, come to learn that he never went anywhere without his weapons, even if it was just one of his little circuits around the house to make sure all was clear. It might have been disturbing to some people, but Ellone understood that he was a man who left nothing to chance and took his duties, no matter what they were, very seriously.

He tilted his head in her direction, acknowledging her presence, but said nothing at first. Typically expressionless, Vincent looked to Ellone to be perhaps thirty years of age or so, but his eyes seemed to convey something more, although Elle could not say what. She hadn't realized, either, just how tall he was until she had started to hobble around on her feet the other day, often with his help. Her face only just reached his narrow yet muscular shoulders, and his slim frame and black leather boots made him seem even taller than his actual six-foot height.

For a while, Ellone didn't say anything either but instead contented herself with watching the stars come winking out one by one as the skies gradually darkened from pale pinks and oranges to the darker shades of mauve and blue-black. The snow had long since ceased to fall, at least for now, and while the wind had abated somewhat, the chill in the air had grown much colder and fiercer with the setting of the sun. The frigid air nipped tenaciously at Elle's flesh and seeped relentlessly beneath her skin.

"Tifa was right," she murmured, shivering in spite of herself. "It got c-cold real fast, didn't it? A lot quicker than I thought it would…"

If he was at all affected by the sudden drop in temperature, Vincent didn't show it. "Indeed. It is not unheard of in this region."

Elle nodded in agreement. "I think I'll g-go inside and change into something a bit w-warmer, then."

Hobbling her way to the front door, Elle limped as gingerly as she could and tried not to put too much weight on her injured ankle. Her ribs ached with each uneven step she took, the light impacts of her feet against the wood paneling of the front porch coursing all the way through her strained and sore body. She was just a few feet from the door when a firm yet gentle hand came to rest on her arm.

"Wait…" Vincent urged her.

Ellone glanced at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

In answer, he carefully removed his thick cloak and held it out for her. "Take this. It will do your recovery no good should you become ill."

"But… don't you need it?"

Vincent shook his head. "The cold does not bother me so much."

"Then why do you wear the cloak at all?" Elle wondered.

"Out of habit, perhaps," Vincent answered quietly. "I was not always as I am now, and behaviors such as these are… sometimes difficult to dislodge."

Smiling gently, Ellone nodded. "I think I understand."

With Vincent carefully holding the cloak out for her, Elle turned and gingerly slid her still sore arms into the wide sleeves of the heavy garment. The dark wool fabric smelled of gun oil and leather, masculine odors that Ellone found oddly comforting. Although the cloak was obviously too big for her, the sleeves extending well past her fingers and the hem brushing lightly against the sides of her boots, it did warm her considerably, enough so that her shivering abated somewhat.

Vincent stepped away as she snuggled into the cloak. "Is that satisfactory, Ellone?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied gratefully, limping gingerly back to her previous position at the rail of the front porch. "That's much better now."

"How long do you intend to remain outside?" Vincent inquired.

Ellone pursed her lips in thought. "I don't know, exactly, but I was going to visit with Tifa over at the inn for a while. Would you like to come?"

"That is acceptable," he agreed.

With his gentle guidance, Elle managed to limp down from the porch steps and onto the ground, her boots crunching loudly in the snow. She tightened Vincent's cloak further around her shoulders as the night wind's cool touch reddened her cheeks and the tips of her nose and ears. Sheltered warmly within the thick wool and leather garment, Ellone glanced for a moment at the welcoming yellow glow seeping out from the windows of the inn about a hundred yards away.

She had taken no more than a step, however, when her injured ankle suddenly gave way beneath her. The white landscape was suddenly rising up to meet her as she tumbled helplessly forward, her arms flailing outward in a futile struggle to regain her balance. Searing pain shot up Elle's leg and through her bruised ribs as she fell, her knees bending like jelly.

Abruptly, she felt strong arms wrapping quickly around her waist, catching her and gently bringing her back to her feet. Ellone instinctively grabbed onto Vincent's shoulders to steady herself and recover her balance, although she struggled to put any weight on her sprained ankle. The pain in her injured body diminished somewhat, although it did not go away entirely.

Ellone slowly gazed up at her companion, suddenly aware of just how close he was to her in that moment. He has such wonderful eyes, she thought. Those troubled, reddish-brown irises looked back at her now in concern, betraying the impassive mask that defined the rest of his face so very well. Her heart beating loudly in her ears, Ellone swallowed heavily, the pleasant sensation of Vincent's body pressing lightly against hers bringing sudden warmth to her blood.

Her fingers intertwined in the long, silken strands of his dark hair, Ellone realized she didn't want this to end. Time slowed almost to a halt, and even the wind seemed to have died. The reassuring weight of Vincent's firm hands held her securely at the small of her back, and the fact that one of those appendages happened to be of metal instead of flesh made no difference to her.

Eventually, though, Vincent gently released her, and the moment passed. Time resumed, as did the winter wind, and its icy touch against her skin brought Elle back to herself in a rush as though someone had thrown a bucket of frigid water directly into her face. She blushed furiously and looked away, running a hand bashfully through her short hair. What in Hyne's name had she been thinking?

"I, um… uh, that is, I…" Elle stammered, "Well… um… I, uh… I'm sorry I was so clumsy. I should've been watching my, um… step..."

Before she knew what was happening, Ellone felt Vincent wrapping his good arm snugly around her waist and pulling her gently to his side.

"Perhaps you should lean against me, should your steps falter again," he suggested.

Elle nodded, her heart fluttering within her breast at the thought of staying so close to him. She tentatively slid her hand up behind Vincent's back to rest upon his other shoulder, and with his arm supporting her, she was able to shift some of the weight from her wounded ankle as she let Vincent guide her through the snow toward the inn. Her ribs throbbed dully as she moved, but the pain barely registered in Ellone's mind at all, distracted as she understandably was by the silent yet reassuring presence of the man upon whom she leaned.

Trailing wisps of gray smoke drifted lazily up from the inn's gray brick chimney as Ellone drew near to the structure. Like most of the buildings in town, Icicle Lodge bore an uncannily strong resemblance to the ski cabins that dotted the rugged slopes near Trabia Garden back home. Built of fir and pine logs to keep the interiors warm, the quaint resorts were a favorite vacation spot for many travelers or for Garden students on leave. Elle had visited one with Laguna and Kiros once, ages ago it seemed, and the memory came back to her now as she looked curiously upon the inn that could have been a larger cousin to one of those Trabian log cabins.

Stepping carefully through the doorway, Ellone let her eyes wander past the front desk to the common room just beyond it. Flames burned merrily in the large brick and marble fireplace across the room, and murmurs of conversation floated through the air from the many people seated at the round, polished wood tables adorned with softly burning candles. The tantalizing aromas of freshly cooked meat, steamed vegetables, and hot buttered bread teased Elle's nostrils, and her stomach suddenly rumbled as she realized she hadn't eaten in hours.

The bar stretched along the common room's back wall, patrons filling the majority of the round stools as they nursed their drinks and talked with one another. A few men and women of varying ages busied themselves behind the shiny granite counter, pouring drinks and taking orders and a dozen other things, while others bustled industriously about the many tables as they served their customers.

Through a set of swinging double doors behind the bar came Tifa, followed by a cacophony of sound from the kitchen she had just left. The young woman eyed the scene around her with the air of one long experienced in such activities, and her gait as she walked was as confident and assured as the friendly smile she gave everyone, whether they were an employee or a customer. Pausing for a moment to give a few instructions to one of the bartenders, Tifa made her way over to where Ellone was sliding carefully onto an unoccupied stool while Vincent took an adjacent one.

"Elle, hi!" Tifa greeted her. "Glad you could make it! So what do you think of the place?"

"It's wonderful, Tifa," Ellone replied warmly. "You and Cloud seem to be doing pretty well for yourselves. No wonder you're always so busy."

Her raven-haired friend laughed. "It wears me out sometimes, but I like it."

"Well if you can spare a moment, do you think I could have something to eat?" Elle asked. "It smells so good in here, and I haven't had anything in a while."

"Of course! I was going to save something for you, anyway. Vincent, would you like anything?"

To Elle's left, her stoic companion nodded. "I would appreciate that."

"Alright, then," Tifa nodded. "I'll just be a minute."

It was actually slightly longer than that before she returned, bearing plates full of hot food in either hand. Elle spent the next half hour eating contentedly and chatting amiably with Tifa whenever her friend had a moment to spare. Vincent said little, as typically laconic as he almost always was, but Ellone still found herself grateful for his presence nevertheless.

Pushing back her plate at last, Elle let her gaze wander across the large, crowded room for a moment. Tifa had explained to her that a lot of the visitors were tourists who came to try their luck on the famous snowboarding courses just north of town where the mountainside sloped abruptly downward to the beginnings of the Great Glacier. In other cases, people came to the inn to sample some of Tifa's renowned cooking and legendary drinks. Although she had a staff to help her now, Tifa still preferred to do much of the work herself, both in the kitchen and out in the common room.

Ellone frowned as something caught her eye. Above the fireplace not far from where she sat, several framed pictures had been hung. One in particular held Ellone's attention, a modest-sized portrait of a young woman in her early twenties. The girl's chestnut brown hair was tied back in a long braid that lay draped over her shoulder, and above her gentle smile, her deep green eyes seemed to meet Elle's own in a gaze both peaceful and sad.

Without turning her gaze from the picture, Elle drew Tifa aside for a moment. "Um, that girl in the picture over there… Who is she?"

"Her name was Aeris," Tifa answered softly, a hint of sadness creeping into her voice.

Pulled along by some instinct or compulsion she didn't understand, Ellone carefully rose from her seat and limped slowly toward the fireplace, her eyes never leaving those of the sad, sweet girl Tifa had referred to as Aeris. Dimly, Elle was aware of Vincent also getting up, perhaps wondering what she was doing, but her attention was fixed solely on the portrait.

When she was just a few feet away from the hearth, Ellone stopped. Before she knew what was happening, a sharp gasp escaped her lips as a vision so real she might have been inside it flashed before her. The inn was gone, everyone was gone, even the girl, and Elle saw that around her was an empty city crafted out of living crystal, with a translucent staircase winding its way down from high above her.

Glancing down at herself, she found she was kneeling on an intricately sculpted marble altar, light seeping down from overhead. To her surprise, Cloud stood mutely before her, but when Elle tried to call out to him or even to move, she found that she could do neither. It was as though she was seeing all of this through someone else's eyes.

Aeris' eyes, she suddenly realized.

Ellone suddenly felt herself lurching forward as something long, narrow, and chillingly cold pierced her back and thrust out from her gut. In the reflection of the long, curving blade, she could just make out the image of a dark, sinister figure adorned with silver hair and cold green eyes. Before she could make any sense out of what she was seeing and feeling, the vision was gone, and the sights and sounds of the inn surrounded her once more.

She felt Vincent's good hand resting lightly on her arm, supporting her, but before she could do or say anything, another vision exploded into her mind. A black, withered Hand was crushing her, reaching inevitably for her throat, its cold fingers making her skin crawl. Fire and shadow filled her sight, but the Hand dominated it all, consumed it all as it was consuming her.

For a moment she was back in the common room, grasping desperately at Vincent's arm as her breath inexplicably began to leave her. Elle stumbled forward, grabbing at her throat as her vision grew dim, and before the darkness took her completely, she saw the Hand once again, smelled the stench of burnt and rotting flesh. She could feel its cold, clammy grip on her neck tightening savagely as it bore her down into the endless, shadowy depths, and as she collapsed on the common room floor, she heard a cold, soft voice whisper to her in the dark, before her consciousness fled.

You are mine.


	15. Chapter 15

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION  
**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 15**

* * *

"Any change?" Cloud asked softly.

His uncertain gaze passed from his wife's worried face to that of the young woman lying unconscious in bed. Ellone had not stirred once since collapsing in the common room of the inn three days ago, and her normally healthy, attractive features had grown pale and drawn as time had worn inevitably on and she had failed to wake. It was like something was devouring her from within.

The former mercenary turned monster hunter glanced to the other side of the bed for a moment, where Vincent sat implacably in grim silence, his eyes fixed intently on the young woman he had sworn to protect as though he could somehow bring her back by sheer force of will alone. His expression belied nothing of what he might have been feeling in that moment, his face hardened into the stoic mask Cloud had come to know so well during their travels together.

Silence hung heavily in the air here in the upstairs guest room, cloaking everything in a deep blanket of uneasy quiet save for the soft crackling of the fire burning low in the nearby hearth. Ellone lay unmoving beneath the blue and white patterned blankets, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly with each barely perceptible inhalation. Wondering if there was anything more he and the others could do to bring her out of her unnatural slumber, Cloud studied the young woman thoughtfully for a long moment.

Tifa's hand found his own and clasped it worriedly. "Nothing, Cloud. I've been trying everything I can think of, but it's no use."

"Damn," the blond warrior sighed wearily. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"I don't know. Dr. Matheson came by again today, but he doesn't have any more idea of what's happened to Elle than I do."

Cloud nodded. Gilbert Matheson—a balding, crotchety old fellow with a bushy gray moustache and a penetrating glare—was the town physician, and although the former mercenary bore little love for doctors and scientists, he knew the man was good at what he did. Matheson had actually urged Cloud and Tifa to let him take Elle to the clinic for observation and treatment, but Tif, feeling that comfortable surroundings and company should be a part of the girl's healing process, would have none of it. Cloud was well aware of the growing friendship between his wife and Ellone and understood why Tifa, despite her limited medical expertise, would want Elle to stay where she was.

In any case, the former mercenary wasn't at all sure there was anyone who could help Ellone. Something about this whole thing didn't seem right, although Cloud could not say quite how, only that an unshakable sense of unease had settled within his gut ever since Vincent had first found the young woman and brought her back here. The blond warrior was willing to bet there was more to her and her presence in this place than just a lost traveler trying to find her way home.

"She grows cold," Vincent murmured grimly, drawing Cloud from his thoughts.

Joining the other man at Ellone's bedside, Cloud gently took the young woman's wrist for a moment. Beneath his fingers, her skin felt as cold and clammy as damp clay, and her pulse was a faint pressure he could just barely detect. What was going on here? She couldn't have much longer, Cloud knew, and one glance at Vincent told him his friend clearly understood that same grim reality.

Cloud frowned in puzzlement as he laid Elle's hand carefully back upon the blankets. "This can't be natural. There's no way."

"What are you saying?" Tifa pondered aloud. "Something did this to her?"

He nodded. "That's what it seems like."

"But how? Nobody was near her except Vincent when she fainted."

"I don't know," Cloud sighed pensively, "but I don't think she's told us everything about where she came from and what's been happening to her."

His wife immediately fixed him with one of her patented glares, those soft brown eyes of hers hardening ever so slightly as she folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Would you? She's only known us for a week, Cloud. You can't expect her to be that open in such a short time."

Tifa was right, of course, just as Cloud knew she would be. His wife always was, or at least she always seemed to be. Cloud had decided long ago that women were a rather strange species to begin with, and living with Tifa for the past four years had brought him to the inevitable and undoubtedly true conclusion that he would never fully understand them. He seriously doubted that any man could.

Brushing his musings aside, Cloud brought his attention back to the problem at hand. Tif had told him the other night exactly what had happened over at the inn, and the more he thought about it, the more unsettled he became. The fact that Ellone had been gazing at Aeris' portrait when she collapsed bothered him more than a little. It might have just been curiosity on her part, since the Cetra girl had become something of an icon in the days after Meteor, but Cloud's instincts suggested otherwise, and thinking of Aeris brought back painful memories he had hoped never to revisit again.

He had almost killed her, after all, and had watched helplessly as she had died in front of him.

Sephiroth's mocking stare, with its cold green eyes—twisted, malicious reflections of Aeris' kind, emerald orbs—still haunted his dreams to this day. Cloud would never forget that long, agonizing moment for as long as he lived, and his guilt and shame would follow him to his grave. He could have stopped it had he been stronger or gotten there sooner, but Sephiroth had beaten him. Even now, Cloud could hear in his mind the man's cold laughter, taunting him with reminders of his weakness and his failure to protect her, his inability to save her.

_Just as you cannot save this girl, either, Cloud. Still weak, still the puppet. Will you ever learn?_

_Get out of my head, damn you! Get out! Just leave me the hell alone, you sick murdering bastard! You're dead, remember?_

_But not forgotten. Not now, not ever…_

Shaking off those disturbing thoughts, Cloud grimaced. "I understand that, Tif, it's just—"

He froze as a memory suddenly surfaced in his mind, not of Aeris and her untimely death but of something much more recent, something he had all but forgotten in the midst of more pressing concerns. A reluctant promise made to him in the chill shadows of an icy cave, crimson eyes gazing coldly back at him, bereft of hope, filled with weariness, doubt, and disgust.

_By letting me live, you have placed me in your debt. Call upon me when you have need._

Could she whose life he had spared possibly save Elle? Did she have that kind of power? Cloud knew little of her race save what his own experiences with them had taught him, but he had no other choice but to try. Whether she would actually agree to help him was another matter, but somehow he knew she would pay back her debt, if for no other reason than to be done with him and lift a burden she despised yet which her warped principles would nevertheless compel her to honor.

"Cloud? Are you alright?" Tifa's worried voice brought the blond warrior abruptly back to the present.

"I think I know someone who might help Ellone," he explained, hurrying to the door, "but you'll have to trust me on this, alright?"

Tifa frowned in puzzlement. 'What do you mean? Where are you going?"

"I don't have time to explain, Tif. Just call me on the PHS if there's any change in Elle's condition. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Drawing his wife close for a moment, Cloud gently touched his lips to hers for a moment, savoring their sweet texture, before finally stepping away. Was he doing the right thing? For a moment he considered telling Tif what he was planning, exactly who he was going to try and find out there somewhere in the icy bluffs beyond the snowfields, but the sense of time slipping inexorably away from him like sand between his fingers kept him from doing so. With every passing moment, Elle slipped further away, bound in that unnatural coma by whatever demons were plaguing her.

Tifa gazed quietly up at him, her brown eyes filled with concern. "Please be careful, Cloud."

"I will," he assured her, nodding firmly.

Moments later he was hurrying out of the house and into the stable, saddling Ayla and leading the gold-feathered chocobo outside. Snow began to fall in light flurries as he rode his mount at a brisk trot down the streets toward the western end of town, passing cars and other chocobo riders as he went, and within minutes he left the settlement behind and let Ayla run swiftly into the frigid night.

* * *

A puff of wind brushed lightly across his cheeks in an icy caress, reddening the skin with cold in spite of his warm cloak and scarf. Cloud's breath steamed in the chill air as he made his way silently through the darkened woods, his only illumination the soft glow of moonlight sifting down through the branches. Aside from the soft crunching of his boots in the snow and the faint whisper of his breath, the forest lay eerily quiet, wrapped in a hush of dark, fearful anticipation.

She was out here somewhere, he knew. Cloud wondered if she knew he was coming or why he was so desperately trying to find her. He had tethered Ayla to a tree a few dozen yards back, preferring to travel the rest of the way on foot to where he thought he would find the one he sought. She might have left, perhaps to return to the Great Glacier where the rest of her kind lived, but somehow Cloud didn't think that was the case. From what he knew of her, she didn't seem to have had much to go home to.

The cave mouth yawned blackly not fifty feet away, half hidden in a tangled mass of vines and shrubs. Crouching furtively behind a spindly evergreen tree, its needles draped in heavy clumps of fresh snow, Cloud watched the dark opening intently, one gloved hand resting idly against the damp, rough trunk of the evergreen. Fragrant scents of pine and spruce hung quietly in the cold air.

"So you have returned, warrior," a familiar, husky voice whispered softly.

Cloud turned warily to find a lithe, icy figure moving languorously out from a copse of nearby firs, her bare feet making almost no sound as she stepped lightly across the snow. Clad only in her sleeveless blue undergarment, the ice witch stopped just a few yards away, her blood red eyes revealing little of what she might have been thinking.

"I need your help, Iseldra," Cloud answered. "I have a friend, back in town, and she's trapped in some sort of coma and can't wake up."

The frost maiden sniffed disdainfully. "It is no concern of mine."

"This thing isn't natural, and we've already tried everything we can think of to wake her! Nothing else has worked, and she's slipping further away with every minute that passes!"

"Then I suggest you resign yourself to her inevitable loss, warrior," Iseldra replied coldly, "for there is little else you can do now."

Cloud frowned angrily. "You've got to help her. No one else can."

"What makes you think I can save her?" the ice witch snapped irritably. "I am no physician, warrior. You know that well enough."

"At least take a look at her! You may not be a doctor, but you do know a bit about magic."

Brushing a few errant strands of long, pale blue hair from her face, the frost maiden shrugged indifferently. "I told you before. It does not concern me."

Cloud grimaced. He had guessed she would react like this. Iseldra had made herself quite clear, but maybe there was yet one other way that Cloud could convince her to help. Maybe she was testing him, wanting to see if he remembered the debt she owed him. It would be like her to try and get out of it if she could, but he wasn't about to let that happen.

"Iseldra, you told me once that if I had need, I could call upon you for help," Cloud explained quietly. "You said you were in my debt. I'm holding you to that promise."

For a moment, the ice witch said nothing, her full, dark blue lips drawn slightly downward in distaste. Her crimson irises met his eyes in an almost defiant stare, perhaps to preserve her pride in the face of this detestable obligation she could no longer avoid.

Iseldra sighed reluctantly. "Very well. Take me to her."

Nodding in relief, Cloud led her back to where his chocobo was tethered. Ayla warked cheerily, obviously pleased to see him, but then shied nervously away as Iseldra came into view. Cloud couldn't blame the bird for being uneasy. He whispered a few soothing words into her ear and stroked her feathers a bit as the ice witch climbed gracefully into the saddle.

Cloud swung atop the bird a moment later, and as he took the reins in hand he felt soft, cool arms wrap snugly around his waist. The chill of Iseldra's flesh sent an icy shiver through his body, yet at the same time it felt oddly arousing. Once again he began to wonder if bringing her back with him was such a good idea, but he knew he really had no choice if she could possibly save Ellone.

From behind him, Iseldra's silky voice whispered teasingly in his ear. "Do you find my presence discomfiting, warrior?"

"I'll manage," he grunted sourly.

Trying without much success to ignore the softness of the icy female's soft, sensuous body pressing ever so lightly against his back, Cloud tugged on the reins to get Ayla moving. The gold-feathered chocobo sped through the night, weaving in and out of the labyrinthine maze of trees whose gaunt, leafless skeletons reached with empty limbs toward the moonless sky. Only the evergreens bore any sign of life, little clusters of greenery surrounded by the stark remnants of their deciduous cousins.

That strange, eerie quiet still lay over the wilderness like a shroud, as though the animal and monster life that normally filled this place had somehow been silenced. But by what? Cloud hadn't wanted to worry Tifa, so he hadn't told her, but lately on his patrols he'd begun to find the bloodied remains of animals and even monsters, all savagely torn apart. Had another, more dangerous monster, migrated here from somewhere? Or was it something else altogether?

Cloud's instincts suggested the latter.

So far, he had found only a few of these bodies, or what was left of them. What bothered him most was that from the pattern of those grisly discoveries, Cloud had deduced that whatever was out here was slowly making its way eastward. That would put it uncomfortably close to town if this kept up for much longer. It didn't seem to be moving very quickly, though, but rather lingering in this area. Was it searching for something? Or just preying off the wildlife? Cloud couldn't be sure, but what chilled him most was that the remains he'd found hadn't shown any signs of being fed upon by anything other than scavengers. Whatever was out here, it wasn't looking for food.

It was killing simply because it could.

* * *

Tifa glanced at her watch for perhaps the hundredth time since her husband had left. He had been away for what, an hour, now? Maybe a little more. She knew Cloud wouldn't have gone without good reason, but worry gnawed incessantly at her nonetheless. What was he doing out there? Who was he trying to find? Tifa sighed wearily, wishing she knew the answers but at the same time wondering whether knowing them would ease her disquiet or instead deepen it further.

She sat, clad in a pair of black cotton pants and a light blue sweater, and tried to banish her uneasiness from her mind. Tifa rested a hand lightly over her distended abdomen. Her baby was asleep at the moment, as far as she could tell. She was fairly sure it was a boy, although she wouldn't know for certain until the baby was actually born. Maternal instinct was almost always accurate, though, at least that was what she had always heard.  
Beside her, Ellone lay almost lifelessly beneath the blue and white patterned bedspread, her short locks of rich brown hair spread in a small, limp fan upon the pillows. Tifa hated seeing her friend like this, slowly fading away into nothingness like a ghost caught in the morning sunlight. How could you fight an enemy you couldn't see or touch? Where would you even begin?

Tifa's fingers clenched tightly into a fist almost without her even thinking about it. After so many years and so many battles, that unconscious reaction she had always experienced upon encountering any foe had engrained itself so deeply within her mind that by now it was practically instinct. Only this time, she knew this was a battle she couldn't win, an enemy she couldn't overcome.

Glancing up from her patient for a moment, Tifa met Vincent's penetrating crimson gaze. He hadn't budged from his position on the other side of the bed ever since he had first brought Ellone up here, and Tifa was willing to bet he wasn't going to anytime soon. He had said little, as was his way, and had instead simply watched over Ellone with ceaseless vigilance. In his good hand, he kept one of his handguns loaded and ready, and Tifa understood well enough that he wasn't taking any chances if Ellone's unknown pursuer chose to show itself while she was in such a vulnerable state.

The sound of booted footsteps, though muffled in places by the finely woven rugs lying over the hardwood floor, abruptly brought Tifa from her thoughts. Turning toward the bedroom door, she let out a relieved sigh as Cloud made his way inside, and she realized with chagrin that she must have been so deep in her musings that she hadn't even heard him come into the house. Rising from her chair, Tifa started to go to her husband to welcome him home.

She froze when she saw who was with him.

Tifa had never seen the woman before, but she knew without any doubt who it was. Cloud had told her little of his encounter with the ice witch and of what had transpired between them, but what she did know was more than enough. Placing a hand protectively over her abdomen and her unborn son lying asleep within, Tifa glanced warily at the newcomer.

Maybe it was just her imagination, but as she met the other woman's red-eyed, penetrating gaze, Tifa felt a tendril of icy air sliver around her neck in a frigid caress. In spite of the goosebumps rising on her skin, she kept her eyes firmly riveted on the Snow's own crimson irises. Tifa wasn't about to give this strange woman the pleasure of seeing her squirm—not here, not in her own house.

The ice witch was the first to break the contact, glancing away for a brief moment before eyeing Tifa with a faint, sardonic smile. "Not bad… for a human. So, you are his mate?"

"I am," Tifa replied evenly.

"As I thought," the Snow agreed. "Only one of exceptionally strong will could possibly tame him."

Not sure whether that was a compliment, an insult, or both, Tifa said nothing. She knew well enough what the ice witch was capable of, having faced a few of her kind during her trek with Cloud and the others across the Great Glacier years ago, but Tifa had never thought she'd see the day when he would actually bring one of those dangerous, wintry sirens into her own home.

Shifting her gaze to her husband, Tifa narrowed her eyes in an angry frown. "What the hell is she doing here, Cloud? Are you out of your mind?"

"Tifa, just listen to me!" he explained tensely. "I brought her here to save Elle."

There was a clearly audible click from behind Tifa's shoulder as Vincent cocked the hammer of his handgun. Glancing over her shoulder, Tif saw that though her friend hadn't moved, he had brought up his good arm to aim his weapon at the ice witch.

Vincent's eyes flickered dangerously. "I think not."

"Put that thing away, Vincent," Cloud ordered firmly. "I told you, she's here to help."

The gun didn't move, and neither did its wielder. Tifa suddenly found herself wondering if he would actually shoot the ice witch if the woman didn't leave, and though she didn't think she would be sorry to see her die, neither did she want any bloodshed in her house.

Before she could say or do anything, however, the Snow thrust out her palm almost lazily, and a stream of bitterly cold air shot past Tifa's shoulder and enveloped itself instantly around Vincent's gun. Ice crystals and frost immediately engulfed the surface of the weapon with a loud crackling like the snapping of dozens of twigs at once, and Vincent hastily dropped the disabled firearm and clutched his numbed fingers with the bronze claw of his other hand.

The ice witch lowered her arm indifferently. "I tire of your squabbling and have no desire to be here any longer than I must. Now, will you allow me to do what I may?"

"Fine," Tifa nodded reluctantly, "but we'll be watching you."

The other woman shrugged. "As you wish. Tell me what you know of the girl's ailment."

Sighing wearily, Tif did so, with help from Cloud. They told the ice witch, whose name Tifa learned was Iseldra, about Elle's collapse three days ago and about the strange, nightmarish dreams the young woman had said she'd been having before that. Vincent said little but kept his cold, suspicious gaze upon the frost maiden the entire time.

Tifa eyed the other woman guardedly. "Can you help her?"

"Perhaps," Iseldra replied thoughtfully, "but it will not be easy, even for one such as I."

Releasing his grip on his numbed hand, Vincent eyed the ice witch coldly. "You can do nothing, sorceress. What powers do you possess beyond those of seduction and bewitchment?"

"Charms and dreams are not so distantly related," Iseldra scoffed. "My kind knows much of both."

"We shall see," Vincent muttered suspiciously.

Brushing past him indifferently, Iseldra seated herself on the side of the bed and leaned closely over Ellone's comatose form, carefully laying the fingertips of one slender hand lightly upon the injured young woman's forehead. The frost maiden's eyes narrowed intently as she began to probe her patient's mind and spirit for whatever was slowly killing her.

Almost as soon as the ice witch had begun, however, she jerked upright with a sharp intake of breath and yanked her hand away as though it had suddenly caught fire. Iseldra whirled to face Tifa and the others, her crimson orbs burning with intensity and, oddly enough, fear.

"Have you _any_ idea who this girl is?" the Snow hissed tensely, "or _what_ she is?"

Tifa stared in puzzlement, startled at the other woman's unexpectedly intense reaction. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

Her gaze intent, Iseldra went on in hushed tones. "She is not of this world. Within her lies power such as I have never seen before, power beyond all imagining!"

"How is that possible?" Cloud murmured uneasily. "Does she know?"

"I doubt it," Tifa answered, "but I think it explains why she doesn't recognize anything here."

Unable to take her gaze from her wounded friend, Tifa wondered at the ice witch's words. Could it be true? Another world? As odd as it sounded, she didn't think there could be any other explanation. The circumstances of Elle's arrival here had just been too strange.

Vincent's low voice brought Tif from her thoughts. "If Ellone possesses the kind of power that you claim, sorceress, then whatever hunts her must fear that power."

"She said herself the thing tried to kill her the night that you found her," Cloud agreed.

"But what's wrong with her now?" Tifa wondered. "Why can't she wake up?"

Hooking a few stray blue hairs behind one slightly pointed ear, Iseldra frowned apprehensively. "Darkness clouds her mind and spirit, a malevolent will that keeps her bound within her dreams. She will not die, but neither will she wake."

"Rendered helpless until her pursuer can finish what it began," Vincent surmised grimly.

"There has to be something we can do," Tif insisted. "Isn't there?"

The ice witch nodded pensively. "There may be a way, although it is not without some danger, and not just to the girl."

"What do you mean?" Cloud asked.

"For her to be saved, someone must enter her dream state and bring her out of it. I can help one of you to do this, but whoever goes risks being lost as well."

Tifa shivered in spite of herself. "How so?"

"As I told you before, a malevolent will shrouds her spirit," the Snow explained. "I have felt it, and even its barest touch is enough to drive an unwary soul mad. It will certainly oppose any efforts to free this girl it seeks so desperately to destroy."

"So who's it going to be?" Tif wondered. Had she not been pregnant, she would have volunteered herself. Ellone was her friend, after all, and had provided the first reasonably close female companionship she'd had since Aeris had died. But now, Tifa had her baby to think about, and she knew that Elle wouldn't want her to risk her child's life and her own in such a dangerous endeavor.

Iseldra went on. "It must be someone she trusts, for in dreams, reality and illusion are easily confused, and what seems to be one is often in fact the other. Whoever goes must find a way to reach past that uncertainty and give her something solid to cling to long enough to bring her out."

"Then I should go," Vincent stated. "It is, after all, the logical choice."

Cloud nodded in understanding. "You've been with her the most. She knows you."

Gazing coldly at the ice witch, the stoic gunman tightened his claw meaningfully. "If you betray us, sorceress, you will not leave this room alive."

"Fine," Iseldra replied indifferently, "though I do not much care in any case. Now be still."

Tifa watched with an odd mixture of curiosity and apprehension as the Snow rested her left hand lightly against Vincent's forehead and touched the fingertips of the other hand once more to Ellone's face. Iseldra frowned in concentration as Vincent's head slowly drooped downward as though it had suddenly become too heavy for his shoulders to support.

As her friend's eyes slid closed, Tifa became aware of a small nimbus of pale blue light emanating from both of the frost maiden's hands, and Iseldra's gaze shifted from Ellone to Vincent and back again as she strove to link the two minds together. Murmurs of sound, like the wind tumbling softly through an icy ravine, rose quietly in the air.

"Good luck, Vincent," Tifa whispered.


	16. Chapter 16

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION  
**_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

  


* * *

**CHAPTER 16**

* * *

_Darkness. _

All he could see, all he was aware of, was darkness. Not the murky gloom of an unlit house or the dim blanket of a starless and moonless night, but darkness. Blackness that had never known and could never hope to know that strange, alien thing called light. An utterly opaque ebony veil undulating as though it were a living thing. And perhaps it was. 

She was in there somewhere, trapped. Somehow, he could feel it, could feel her. She was afraid, understandably enough, but at the same time, determined to find a way out, to find answers. There were so many questions, and they flooded his mind even as they surfaced in hers. Maybe the link had bound him to her more closely than he had anticipated. 

Images seared his consciousness, visions of flame and blood and shadow. Ebony wraiths devouring like locusts the last of a barren world, one he at times recognized as his own yet somehow it was not. The blackened stumps of what once had been trees, the seared, lifeless hills and valleys where nothing but rock and ash could thrive. The future? The past? He wasn't certain, but he knew these visions, these nightmares, were hers. They had tormented her for many nights, weeks perhaps. 

And at the center of it all was the tower. 

A black, foreboding obelisk thrusting defiantly up at the roiling skies, the structure loomed like a pillar of solid shadow over the blasted landscape. Darkness emanated from it, darkness surrounded it, darkness flowed into it. The darkness pulsed and breathed, watched and waited. Its black, scorched Hand was ever reaching, grasping all within its lightless fist. Even he who had long ago chosen to dwell ever in the shadows couldn't help but shrink back from this terrible darkness. 

Yet if he was to save her, he would have to endure it, for as he well knew, it was all around him. Cold seeped beneath his skin, made his bones throb from within the folds of his flesh. How could such sensation be possible in a dream? It was like standing alone in a graveyard on a black, moonless winter night. Only here, there was no hope of dawn. 

He tried to move, to step forward, but nothing happened. Then he remembered he didn't have a body here. This was a dream, after all. If he wanted to go anywhere, he would have to do so in another way. Stray thoughts teased the edges of his mind as he struggled to concentrate, musings on the futility of this course of action or whether the one who had sent him here could be trusted. He wondered what his friends were doing, if they were still there, in the waking world. 

Banishing the extraneous thoughts with a sudden, fierce surge of will, he strained to bring his mind to bear on the situation at hand. Images swirled around him in a confusing array of blurred orange and gray hues of fire and ash and smoke amidst the ever present blackness, but he ignored them as he fought to overcome the dream's transient nature and take what control of it he could. 

Finally, he felt himself move, though it was more a sensation of motion than actual physical movement. Though still shrouded in darkness, he knew that he was no longer where he had been. He was closer to her, but at the same time, nearer to the source of the shadows as well, and he suspected that where he found one, he would find the other. 

Again, he willed himself to move, concentrating on the sensation of her presence and attempting to get to her before she slipped out of reach. The closer he came, the greater the resistance he encountered and the more difficult it was to concentrate. 

Whispered voices began to taunt him, memories of his own past began to surface, and his focus began to break down. He saw himself, a bitter youth in Wutai so long ago, cold and aloof even then. Though half-Wutainese, his western blood and looming height still had earned him the scorn of other adolescents, and so he had kept to himself, brooding and alone. It was their voices he heard now in the dream, twisted and chill with hate as they taunted him once more. 

For a moment, he faltered, but only for a moment. They were ghosts, bodiless spirits that could do him no harm. In any case, he cared little for their whispered insults, for he had long ago moved beyond them. He felt himself move closer to her, though she still was some distance away. Either that, or whatever dark power had bound her in his hellish place was attempting to keep him from reaching her, from bringing her back to the waking world and to safety. 

Again, whispers teased his mind, but this time, the voice—for now there was only one—was different. It was a cold, apathetic, and highly analytical wheeze he knew all too well, and he had hoped never to hear its slightly nasal yet quietly sinister tones ever again. The man was dead, after all, but the memory still lingered, as the probing darkness had no doubt discovered, and when Vincent gazed intently into the darkness once more, he saw his old nemesis standing before him, those penetrating eyes he knew so well staring back at him from behind a pair of rounded spectacles. 

It was Hojo. 

"I cannot let you pass," the twisted scientist murmured, his voice echoing more in Vincent's mind than in the shadows around him. 

Vincent willed the image away, strove to regain control of the dream, but the figure in the white lab coat refused to fade back into the darkness where he belonged. He was no more real than the remembered voices of Vincent's unhappy childhood, but the gnarled man represented a far darker memory, one Vincent could never forget, for it had burned itself into his very being. 

His surroundings changed, and now he was in a dimly lit laboratory whose stone walls and wooden shelves of countless books and reports were as familiar to him as his own name. This was where Hojo had destroyed him, had made him into something less than human for his own twisted pleasure. This was where, in a way, Vincent had been reborn. 

Hojo still stood in front of him, a solid and implacable presence, and Vincent knew he could not overcome him, not this time. He watched the memory of that day happen once more, the madman's reworking of his very body until it was something strange and bestial. The loss of his arm, to be replaced with that bronze thing, that claw that was ever a reminder of all he had lost. 

"No," he whispered. A simple word, but it was enough. 

The effort to say even that left him drained, but as he watched, the laboratory was swallowed in gloom once more. Hojo remained a moment longer, a shade out of a hellish past that Vincent knew he could never escape. As he at last began to fade from sight, Hojo's lips curled upward into an arrogant sneer, and then with a last cackle of maniacal laughter, he was gone. 

Once again, Vincent was alone in the darkness. Perhaps, in truth, he had always been here, but now was not the time to ponder such things. Ellone needed him, and she was very close. He heard her calling out, but whether it was to him or to anyone at all, he did not know. Her need, however, was clear enough, for he felt it even as she did. 

Concentrating once more, Vincent moved closer, and as he did so, he felt the dark one's malice surround him, freezing his blood. Or at least, that was what it felt like. He felt himself hurled backward, back toward wakefulness, and he fought against it like a swimmer in the ocean fights against the undercurrent until he finally managed to dive back down into the depths. 

Reaching out, he took her hand in his own. 

Ellone grabbed onto him, wrapping her arms tightly around him, and Vincent strained to pull her away from her prison. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of an orb so utterly dark it made the blackness he was in seem like broad daylight in comparison. It was from the orb that the shadows came, whose will bound Ellone within these dreams. And yet it was not just that black sphere alone. There was something else, as well, something far more terrible but which Vincent could not put a name to. 

There was a sudden lurch, and Vincent glanced down to see a monstrous, charred black Hand pulling Ellone away from him and back into the darkness of her prison. She cried out, grabbing desperately at Vincent's outstretched arms as he dove after her, and for a moment it was like some macabre game of tug-o-war with Ellone as the prize. It was a contest Vincent did not intend to lose. 

He dug his claw into the blackened flesh of the Hand, and the darkness around him shuddered. Seeing the vulnerability, Vincent repeated the attack, and the shadows grew more and more unstable, splinters of light seeping through the cracks. Ellone caught on to his idea and kicked another finger with her free leg as hard as she could while Vincent raked his claw across the back of the hideous appendage. 

The darkness crumbled, and the Hand's grip fell away under the onslaught of burning white light. Vincent held Ellone close to him, his good hand around her waist as he willed himself upward toward the source of the light. She leaned close against him, her arms about his neck, and let her head rest softly against his chest. Though it was just a dream, he found he could still feel the pressure of her body against his, and to his surprise, he didn't actually mind the contact. 

He kept her close as they entered the light. 

* * *

Ellone slowly opened her eyes, blinking a little as she tried to discern her surroundings. Where was she? What had happened to her? The softness of mattress and pillows told her she lay comfortably in bed, and her initial glance at the familiar panels of the wooden ceiling above her confirmed what she had already started to realize. Someone, most likely Vincent, must have brought her back to the house and up here to her room after she had collapsed. 

A cool, icy touch against her forehead jolted Ellone to full wakefulness as though she had been slapped across the face, and she found herself looking at a strange, blue-skinned woman with hard, crimson eyes that burned with the intensity of the exertion she must have been going through until now. Elle shivered at the aura of cold that seemed to cloak the stranger like a shroud. 

The woman took her fingers away from Elle's skin, though the chill lingered for a moment. "The shadow has passed, for the moment at least." 

Ellone frowned in puzzlement at her words, but said nothing as she looked past the stranger to see her friends gathered nearby. Tifa sat near the fireplace, sighing in relief on seeing Elle finally awake, and Cloud stood not so far away from her, his posture easing a bit now that Elle was out of danger for the time being. Propping herself carefully onto her elbows so that she was sitting up, she noticed Vincent stirring as well from his chair by her bedside. 

"Elle, you're awake!" Tifa exclaimed, giving her hand a squeeze. "For a while there, I thought we were going to lose you!" 

Managing a small, weary smile, Ellone returned the gesture. "I'm alright, Tifa. Whatever it was that you guys did, it worked. Vincent found me and brought me back." 

At the mention of her other friend, Elle gazed at him for a moment, hazy memories of their shared nightmare surfacing in her mind. In spite of the darkness of many of those thoughts, what she pondered most was the strange bond she had felt with him, as though their minds had been linked together to a certain extent. Even now, she felt it, sensed hints of the things she had seen and heard with him in the dream, things from his own past which in her mind had appeared as little more than blurred images whose meaning she couldn't quite discern. 

A dark-haired man in glasses, wordless taunts from faceless young voices—these were among the bits and pieces lingering within Ellone's mind, and she knew they related to Vincent somehow. What meaning they had, she did not know, since the visions had been less clear to her in the dream than to Vincent, for whom they had been intended in the first place, but a name floated up to the surface of her memory now. _Hojo._ Was it the dark-haired man? Ellone thought it might be, but what significance he had to Vincent, she couldn't say, though she doubted it was anything benign. She would let her friend tell her in his own time, however, if he chose to. 

The bond apparently worked both ways, she realized, for she felt him pondering the visions of flame and shadow that she had seen in her own dreams and in the dark prison her consciousness had been dragged into after she had collapsed in the bar. Ellone thought of the tower, that utterly black yet strangely familiar structure that in her visions had loomed ominously like some ebony finger thrusting upward at the roiling, blood red sky from the blasted plains of Centra. What was it? What did it mean? 

Shaking off her dark musings, Ellone turned to the strange, blue-skinned woman who sat on the edge of the bed eyeing her coolly with her scarlet orbs. Yet behind that haughty mask, Elle thought she could see hints of apphrension and doubt in the icy siren's face. She guessed that the other woman had been the one responsible for Vincent appearing inside Elle's dream state to begin with, although how she had accomplished that feat or why, Ellone didn't know. 

The frost maiden swirled her fingers together through the air in short arcs, her slender hands curving deftly in complex, rounded patterns that grew ever closer together with each repetition. As Ellone watched in fascination, a small sphere of bright bluish crystal began to materialize out of the very air, hovering between the woman's palms. The crystal's initially smooth surface began to segment and divide into hundreds of glittering facets, and the sphere itself gradually flattened and elongated until the softly glowing object resembled a flawless, shimmering sapphire set within a silvery, pale blue pendant. A final motion of the woman's hand crafted a length of fine, bluish-silver chain dangling from the top. 

"Take it," she ordered brusquely. 

Ellone grasped the pendant tentatively, wincing at the bitter cold it emanated. "What is this?" 

"My kind refers to it as a dream ward," the other woman explained. "It is a talisman woven of ice and magic, designed to guard against mental intrusions. Wear it next to your skin at all times, and your rest should remain undisturbed." 

"Thank you," Ellone murmured wonderingly. 

To her surprise, the woman simply shrugged and rose to her feet. "I was repaying a debt, nothing more. Perhaps this will be enough so that there will be no further need of me." 

The frost maiden's eyes met Cloud's for a moment, and Elle wondered what might have been happened between them. Tifa had mentioned a few days ago that there had been an incident the same night Vincent had found her, and now that she thought about it, Ellone guessed that this strange woman must have been involved somehow. Elle hadn't pressed her friend for any further information, however, since it didn't really seem to be her business and because she respected her companions' privacy, but she still remained a little curious about it nevertheless. 

"It's good to see you up and awake, Ellone," Cloud remarked, shifting his attention away from the blue-skinned woman. "You had us worried there for a bit." 

Carefully sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Ellone nodded. "I'm really not sure what happened. How long have I been out, by the way?" 

"Three days," Vincent murmured. 

Elle froze, her eyes widening. "What? _Three days?"_

"You have lain here unconscious for that entire time, yes," he answered solemnly. 

"We tried everything we could think of to wake you," Tifa seated herself next to Elle on the bed and laid a hand on her shoulder, "but nothing worked until Cloud brought Iseldra here to help you." 

_Three days?_ Ellone's mind whirled with the suddenness of it all. Were Squall and the others even still looking for her now? She hadn't been able to find any way of contacting them, of letting them know that she was alright. Come to think of it, she still didn't even really know where she was or how she was going to get back to the Garden. 

A gentle squeeze on her shoulder brought Elle from her thoughts, and she turned to see Tifa gazing thoughtfully at her. "Just before you fainted, you were looking at that portrait of Aeris, remember? Can you tell us what happened?" 

"I think so," Elle replied. Taking a breath to calm herself, she began her tale, speaking of the two strange visions she had experienced in the bar and the things she had seen and heard while that frightening presence had imprisoned her within her nightmares. Vincent nodded slightly at this, and Elle sensed that he perhaps understood now better than anyone what she had been going through. He had seen some of it himself firsthand, after all. 

Ellone hesitated a moment, then went on to explain about the maddened, hellish voices that also had plagued her dreams and waking mind. She said nothing, however, of that other voice, that mysterious yet oddly reassuring feminine whisper that had called to her in the lake in Trabia and once more later that same night. Something held her back, although she did not know quite what, just that for some reason, she knew it wasn't the right time to speak of it. 

"What you told us, that first vision you had," Cloud's pensive murmur broke the few moments of stillness that had followed the end of Elle's narrative, "it actually did happen, four years ago. Aeris, she… she died in front of me, just like you saw." 

"But why would Elle have seen it in her vision?" Tifa wondered. "She never even knew who Aeris was until I told her that night." 

Ellone sighed, as puzzled as her friends. "I'm not sure, but… I think I was supposed to see it. But the vision, I don't think I saw all of it. Something didn't want me to." 

"The entity whose Hand you saw in the second vision," Vincent surmised. 

"Right," Elle agreed, shivering at the memory. "And that's when I collapsed." 

His hand propped under his chin in thought, Cloud looked to his wife. "Tifa, how's Ellone recovering from her injuries? I'm thinking we should pay Red a visit soon and see if he can't help us figure out this puzzle and get her back to her own world." 

"She's doing pretty well, actually," Tifa replied, "but it'll still be several days yet before her ribs and wrist are healed enough for me to take off the bandages. I don't think a ride in the Highwind over to Cosmo Canyon will be anything to worry about, though." 

But Ellone wasn't listening, instead staring at Cloud and struggling to comprehend what he had just said. "Cloud, what… what do you mean… another world?" 

It was the frost maiden who answered. "You do not belong here, girl. There is power within you that you have not yet begun to comprehend, and it is that, I believe, which has brought you here. For what purpose, however, I cannot say." 

As strange as it sounded, Ellone knew it to be the truth, and as she thought about it, faint murmurs of comprehension began to dawn in her mind. Something or someone, perhaps the as yet nameless owner of that oddly familiar feminine voice, had called her here to this world. But why? What was she supposed to do here? Where was she supposed to go? 

"It explains a lot, now that I think about it," Elle murmured, "but I can't help feeling as though my coming wasn't an accident after all. There's something I have to do here, I know it. I just… I just wish I knew what it was…" 

"We'll help you figure that out, Ellone," Cloud reassured her. "Don't worry about that. I'll call Cid and see if he can't swing over here in a day or two and bring us to Cosmo Canyon. In the meantime, though, I should be taking Iseldra back to the woods." 

Tifa glanced worriedly at him. "Are you sure that's necessary, Cloud? I'm sure she can find her own way back to her home, can't she?" 

"Your concern is touching," the frost maiden sneered acidly. "Just leave me at the edge of town, warrior, and I will make my own way from there." 

"Fine," Cloud agreed. "Shall we get going, then?" 

The woman he had identified as Iseldra nodded and headed out the door to wait in the upstairs hall. Cloud glanced after her for a moment, then turned back to Tifa. Approaching the bedside where she sat with Ellone, he bent and brushed a kiss lightly across his wife's lips, as though perhaps trying to reassure her in a way words never could. Elle understood well enough what Tifa worried about, what with her husband being alone with that icy vixen even for a short time. 

"I'll be back soon, Tif," he told her. 

She sighed pensively, and in a moment Cloud was gone, leading the snowy siren down the stairs and out the door into the frigid winter night. The sound of the front door closing behind them was loud in Elle's ears, and although she was relieved that the stranger was gone, she nevertheless wondered what more of herself she could have learned from the woman. 

Tifa rose carefully to her feet, stretched her arms a bit, and turned to Ellone. "Well, I think I'm going to go lay down for a bit. I haven't gotten much sleep since you fainted on us, Elle, since I've been here most of the time, so I'm a little tired. Wake me if you need anything, though." 

"Alright," Ellone nodded. 

Quiet hung in the air almost palpably after Tifa left, and Ellone supposed she knew why. She and Vincent had shared a frightening yet at the same time intimate experience together, and she wasn't exactly sure where to begin talking about it. Hesitation filled her, yet she wondered briefly if some of it wasn't his own as well as hers. 

"You saved me again," Elle murmured at last, a small, shy smile playing across her lips. 

His gaze lingering thoughtfully over the bronze appendage that was his left arm, Vincent glanced up as she spoke, his expression typically unreadable. "It was… what I had to do, Ellone. But, I admit… I am relieved that you are safe." 

Ellone reached out and tentatively took his good hand in her own. His was so much bigger than hers, yet not massive like a larger man's might be. Rather, his slender fingers reminded her more of those a musician or an artist might have, and given his pastimes of gunmanship and woodcarving, she could see why. A few butterflies fluttered lazily in Ellone's stomach as her fingers clasped his, the almost electric sensation of it sending her heart thudding in her ears. 

"I'm glad that… that it was you in there, with me," she told him quietly. "Somehow, it just… made me feel better. I knew you would bring me back. Thank you." 

Vincent tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Do not let it trouble you, Ellone. But, if I may ask, do you… do you feel it as well? This link between us?" 

"That feeling of us touching each other's mind? Yes, I… I think so. What is it?" 

"I do not know," he sighed. "It would seem to be a side effect of the ice witch's power when she brought me into your dream, but I cannot be certain." 

Thinking of the ice witch reminded Ellone of the pendant the woman had given her to wear. Now was as good a time as any to put it on, she supposed, although with her right wrist still held in a cast, she wasn't quite sure how to go about it. The jewel's cold weight rested in her good hand, the chill seeping determinedly beneath her skin. 

"Um, Vincent," she asked, extending her hand, "would you…?" 

He nodded, understanding well enough what she meant. "Of course." 

Rising from the chair he had occupied by the fireplace, Vincent joined Ellone on the bed, sitting to her left and taking the silvery blue pendant in his good hand. Elle turned her body to face away from him so that her back was to him, and soon enough, he had hung the shimmering pendant around her neck, the fine chain glistening silvery blue. Ellone nestled the pendant snugly inside her blouse, where it lay comfortably just above her breasts. She could get used to the mildly cold feel of it lying against her skin, she supposed. It was, after all, a small price to pay to have some peace of mind. 

"Do you think it will work?" she wondered. 

Vincent sighed pensively as she turned back to face him. "Perhaps, perhaps not. I cannot be certain." 

"Well, I guess we'll find out sooner or later," Ellone glanced down at the sparkling pendant for a moment. "I just hope it won't be too late." 

* * *

Quiet hung over the woods like a soft blanket as Cloud led the lithe figure of the ice witch past the last outlying homes and into the clusters of snow-covered evergreens that grew all along the edge of town. A soft, cool breeze left his cheeks slightly red and playfully tossed the trailing ends of his scarf, and his breath steamed in the air with every exhalation. 

"We're here," he murmured simply. 

Iseldra nodded wordlessly, her crimson eyes gazing into the nearby copse of pines and the wilderness that lay beyond. She walked lightly atop the snow, leaving no tracks and making no sound as she caught up to Cloud and paused at his side. 

He turned to her. "You know the way from here, right?" 

"I am native to these lands, warrior, or have you forgotten?" Iseldra sniffed disdainfully. "I can find my way back without help from you." 

"Alright, then," Cloud nodded. "Just thought I'd ask." 

Iseldra shrugged indifferently. "I care not. Your concerns are of no importance to me. My debt to you is repaid, as we agreed. I have no reason to aid you further." 

"So, if we meet again, we may be enemies," Cloud stated flatly. Somehow, he didn't really care for the idea all that much. 

"It is a possibility," Iseldra agreed. 

Cloud had figured as much. Now that she was no longer indebted to him, Iseldra might as well be just another one of her kind for all he was concerned. Except he couldn't quite bring himself to believe that. But why? Why should she be any different than the others? She had only helped him because he had practically twisted her arm into doing so. 

"Does it really have to be that way, though?" Cloud wondered softly. 

The ice witch frowned but said nothing. She turned and treaded noiselessly across the snow, intent on disappearing into the woods. Yet halfway to the nearest tree, she stopped, and for a long moment she simply stood there, seeming to gaze off into the gloom as though trying to make up her mind about something. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder back at Cloud, her expression cold yet uncertain. 

Her red irises seemed almost to challenge him. "Why do you care what happens to me? What difference does it make to you whether I live or die?" 

To be honest, Cloud wasn't actually sure himself. But he knew that, dangerous as Iseldra might yet prove to be, he did not want to fight her. He didn't want to see her die, either, in spite of the things she had done. Maybe, he thought, she had put a face to something he had always before thought of as just another monster, and that face was one he couldn't easily ignore. 

"I don't know, really," he answered, "except that I do care. I used to think your kind were all the same, but… I'm not so sure anymore." 

The hardness in her gaze faltered so briefly that Cloud wondered if he hadn't simply imagined it, so quickly did she catch herself. "I told you before, warrior. Do not waste your pity on me." 

"Why do you call me that?" Cloud asked curiously. 

Iseldra shrugged. "It is what you are, is it not? And what you are is as much a part of your identity as the name you are called. This is true for all of us." 

"So, in that case," he wondered, "what would I call you? What are you?" 

"I… do not know anymore," the frost maiden murmured softly, the haughty mask inexplicably crumbling. She looked away, unable to meet Cloud's gaze, and her eyes seemed to find sudden interest in the nearby woods. The light breeze tossed a few strands of her blue silken hair across her face, but she made no move to push them aside. 

Cloud took a tentative step forward. "Are you alright?" 

"Tell me something, warrior," Iseldra asked. "Why… why do you fight? Our doom is coming, yet still you will not let it take you. Why?" 

The question caught Cloud off guard for a moment, and he had to admit it was one he had asked himself on occasion. Yet it always came back to the same answer, although how to convey it to the ice witch eluded him for the moment. It wasn't something he really thought much about but had simply accepted long ago as part of who he was. 

"There's always a chance, no matter how small," he explained, "that you can change how things turn out. I fight because… because I want those I care about to be safe. And because maybe, just maybe, I can help make a difference for others, too." 

Iseldra slowly brought her eyes up to meet with his, her blood-hued irises not quite as hard as they had previously been. "You have strange motivations, warrior. Where I come from, we look out only for ourselves. That has ever been our way, even amongst each other." 

"But you're not with them anymore," Cloud pointed out. 

"Something that was not entirely my doing, I will admit," she agreed. "My sisters are blind fools, ignorant of what they know is coming. They think that by ignoring it, the Shadow will simply cease to be. I tried to tell them otherwise, but…" 

Cloud thought he understood now, at least in part. "They threw you out." 

"Yes, although I suppose I was glad to leave. We are a solitary race, but even so, we generally keep some amount of communication with each other. They would know if I ever tried to go back, not that I have any desire to do so." 

"So what can you tell me of this danger you feel?" Cloud asked pensively. 

A shiver passed through the ice witch's body as she spoke. "Little enough, to be honest. But it will not be long now before the storm begins to break, I can feel it in my blood. I will tell you this, however: whatever happens, that girl will be at the center of it." 

"Ellone?" Cloud wondered. "Why's she so important?" 

Iseldra's gaze grew suddenly intense, her scarlet orbs narrowing. "I do not know, but there is unimaginable power within her. She will be either our salvation… or the death of us all." 

Before Cloud could question her further, Iseldra disappeared into the woods with little more sound than the snowflakes gently drifting down from the skies might make. A soft, icy breeze whispered through the trees as he gazed off for a time in the direction the ice witch had gone. He didn't think he would see her again, nor for some time at least. 

Her words echoed in Cloud's mind as he finally turned away and began to head home, the scents of pine and fir and wet bark filling his nose and dark thoughts filling his head. Ellone was the key, Iseldra had said. But the key to what? What was she here for? The answer was there, he knew, hovering maddeningly just beyond his reach. It was something he ought to have seen already, but still it continued to elude him as he made his way back into town, walking quietly down the side of the slush-drenched road. The more he pondered it, the more he couldn't help the almost overpowering sense of urgency that was steadily beginning to gnaw relentlessly at him. 

Time was running out. 


	17. Chapter 17

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

**17**

* * *

Seifer paced restlessly back and forth, his black leather boots treading upon the fine burgundy carpet so repeatedly that he thought he might leave tracks imprinted within it before too much longer. Perhaps more than anything else, Seifer absolutely hated to be kept waiting. The chronometer on the far wall ticked incessantly like some twisted metronome tapping maddeningly away at his eardrums, and with every step Seifer took, his irritated scowl grew deeper. 

_Tick, tick, tick…_

At least his posse was still with him. Hands clasped firmly behind her back, Fujin stood mutely at attention near the front corner of the modest office, her expression as unreadable as always. She knew as well as he did why Headmaster Cid had called the three of them up here, but if she was at all put off by her superior's unexpected tardiness, she didn't show it. 

Raijin, on the other hand, couldn't seem to keep from fidgeting. The dark-skinned bear of a man scratched his head in puzzlement, and his eyes darted around the room almost constantly as though he expected the headmaster to suddenly appear out of nowhere at any moment. Raijin sat down in one of the two plush chairs before the as yet unoccupied polished mahogany desk that dominated the room. Less than a minute later, however, he stood right back up again. 

"Would you cut that out?" Seifer growled irritably. "You're starting to piss me off…" 

Though by no means an unimposing figure himself, Raijin still winced visibly at Seifer's rebuke. "Oh, uh, sorry! Just nervous, ya know? Dunno what's gonna happen to us and all…" 

Seifer had to admit his friend had a point. Although almost three weeks had passed since that disastrous mission in Dollet, he and his posse were still stuck here in Balamb Garden. It was more than a little unnerving, being back within these familiar walls after so long. Seifer had never thought he would actually come back here, and in fact would rather not have done so at all, but Cid had ordered him otherwise after the Dollet disaster. The headmaster had yet to explain why, however. 

As though Seifer's thoughts had somehow summoned him, the rumpled and bespeckled founder of Balamb Garden suddenly stepped through the office door, a sheaf of papers tucked under one arm. Cid Kramer, with his typically modest and professorial attire, had always looked to Seifer more like a mild-mannered academic than the beloved and respected leader of a powerful military school. 

Seifer was surprised, however, to see that the headmaster had not arrived alone. With him was his wife, Edea, the gentle and elegant former sorceress who had raised Seifer along with Squall and the others as their Matron so long ago. Long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall, and her amber eyes took in Seifer and his friends with a mixture of kindness and regret. 

Two years ago, the four of them had brought the entire world to the very brink of destruction. 

Although it had been the sorceress Ultimecia who had, in effect, been manipulating all of them for her own ends, Seifer knew it had been his own choice to abandon the Garden to follow her in the first place, just as it had been Fujin's and Raijin's choice to follow him. Privately, he had always regretted having dragged them into the whole thing and getting them involved, but their devotion to him meant more than he would ever care to openly admit. As a wanted man, his friends were few and far between these days. 

It was a bit different with Edea, though. Seifer had never spoken to her of those days during the war, of the things they had done together while under Ultimecia's influence. He had been Edea's knight, her right-hand man, and had led her Galbadian forces against those of Garden and SeeD while turning the world upside down in search of the ever-elusive Ellone. Ultimecia had desperately wanted the young woman's powers and would stop at nothing to find her. 

Now, two years later, both were free of the mad sorceress' influence, but Seifer at least had found himself not quite as able to move on with his life as he would have hoped. Part of it was that in some areas of the world, he still was very much a wanted man for what he had done during the war. He had never expected Garden to let him off as easily as it had, considering that he had been working toward its destruction while serving Ultimecia's whims, but Cid and Edea had unexpectedly spoken up for him at the tribunal. 

Banishment from the Garden had been infinitely preferable to the far more harsh alternative put up by the reinstated headmaster of Galbadia Garden, Martine, who had demanded that Seifer and his two friends be imprisoned in a Galbadian detention facility for the rest of their lives. Fortunately, however, Cid had possessed the overriding authority in that decision since Seifer, Fujin, and Raijin had all been students in his Garden and not Martine's, and according to SeeD regulations, the final say in their fate rested with him and not with his Galbadian counterpart. 

Seifer brushed away his thoughts as Cid began to speak. "I apologize for the delay, Seifer. Administrative details, nothing more, but they took longer than I had expected." 

"What do you want with me, sir?" Seifer replied brusquely. 

"Well, the Dollet incident raises a number of uncomfortable questions," the headmaster explained, "but perhaps the most disturbing is this. How did the Galbadian forces know the exam team's attack plan and coordinates so precisely? How did they know when we would strike? I think, Seifer, you can guess as well as I where those questions lead." 

There was only one possible answer, of course, the thought leaving Seifer more than a little uneasy. "You think we have a traitor in our midst." 

Sighing heavily, Cid nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. We believe that whoever did this had to have been an established member of SeeD, as no one else would have had the access to decrypt our communications protocols and relay the information to the Galbadians." 

"Any idea who it is?" Seifer wondered. 

Cid gazed firmly at him from behind his round-rimmed glasses. "That's what we want you to find out." 

"_Me?_" the former student gaped. "Why me?" 

It was Edea who answered his question, her graceful voice softly penetrating Seifer's reluctance. "You want a chance to atone for your mistakes, Seifer, do you not? Once, you tried to destroy the Garden, but now we are giving you the opportunity to save it." 

In spite of himself, Seifer knew his Matron's reasoning was sound. It still galled him that he had allowed himself to be duped at all, and his ego had never quite recovered from that blow. Once, he had been the head of the Garden's disciplinary committee, but now he and his friends were little more than outcasts. The only thing that kept them out of a Galbadian cell block under Martine's watchful eye was the headmaster's leniency and the tasks he assigned them to perform to earn it. 

"You'll be working with Instructor Trepe on this investigation," Cid went on. "She has already been briefed on the situation, and you'll report anything you find directly to her." 

_Oh, joy…_ Seifer remembered all too well his verbal scuffles with the snobbish Quistis back when he had still been a student here. She had always seemed to enjoy poking holes in his bravado, much to his extreme annoyance. Was he really going to have to put up with her again? 

"Sir," he asked, "is that really necessary? I can handle this on my own." 

The headmaster raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem?" 

Seifer nodded. "The instructor and I have never really gotten along, so I don't know how effective putting us together might be. To be honest, I can hardly stand her, sir." 

The blond instructor's prissy attitude and uptight demeanor had constantly gotten on his nerves over the years, and the fact that she had been one of his own teachers had made it worse. After all, he'd had to see that cold, pristine face of hers almost every morning in his first class of the day. 

"Well, you'll have to find a way," Cid ordered sternly, "because like it or not, Seifer, you're going to be working with her. I suggest you work out your differences as best you can." 

"Fine," Seifer shrugged. He'd just have to make sure she understood perfectly who was in charge of things. "Is there anything else I should know about?" 

When Cid answered, his voice grew oddly quiet. "There is one other thing. As you know, the Galbadians are holding Rinoa captive for reasons we believe involve her being a sorceress. It follows that they may try to strike again, this time at Edea." 

"But she's not a sorceress anymore," Seifer pointed out, not quite sure what the headmaster was getting at. 

Edea shook her head, however, in gentle disagreement. "That is not entirely true. The powers I gained from Ultimecia are indeed gone, having passed on to Rinoa, but I am sure you know that the sorceress from the future was not the only one I have received powers from." 

It took a moment, but Seifer's eyes widened a little when he finally understood. "You mean…?" 

"Ultimecia does not have the ability to manipulate or pass on powers that were never her own to begin with," Edea explained patiently, "and that is true of any sorceress. She was not the first to pass on powers to me, if you remember. When I was very young, I gained the legacy of another sorceress as well, and it is her power that I still possess to this day." 

"IMPOSSIBLE," Fujin argued, and Raijin was nodding his head in puzzled agreement. Seifer understood well enough his friends' confusion, for he felt it himself. He didn't doubt Matron's sincerity, but he wondered why she was entrusting him with something that had obviously been kept secret for some time. Who knew what would happen if word leaked out that Edea was still a sorceress? 

Seifer folded his arms across his chest pensively. "So why was this never mentioned until now?" 

"It was only recently that I discovered that I still had some measure of power," Edea answered softly, "for that first sorceress was, as I understand it, not so strong or practiced in her art as was Ultimecia. As such, what powers I have gained from that other woman are fewer and more difficult to discern." 

"What is it you're asking me to do?" Seifer asked expectantly. 

Cid sighed and gently laid a hand on his wife's shoulder as he answered. "With a traitor here in the Garden, it's no longer safe for Edea. But if she starts having SeeD guards with her everywhere she goes, that would arouse suspicions and risk exposing the fact that she is still a sorceress." 

"I get it," Seifer grunted sourly. "You want us to be Matron's bodyguards, then?" 

Edea shook her head mildly. "Not exactly. I do not think it would be wise for all of you to be with me at once, and I do not think it necessary in any case. Just one of you at a time should suffice, and only when I need you. Since I often walk the open halls of the Garden, where many of our students and faculty do the same, I doubt an assassin would act with potential witnesses just around the corner." 

"But after hours, there's almost no one around outside the dorms," Seifer reminded her, "so I'm guessing that's when you'd want one of us with you?" 

"That is correct," she nodded. "Will you be my protector once again, Seifer?" 

The question caught him off guard, and for a moment Seifer couldn't reply, his mouth hanging halfway open as he remembered a similar offer she had made him before, long ago. He had become her knight, but to what end? It had nearly ruined him before, and he had failed to protect her in any case. Why should that play out any differently now? 

Seifer shook the disturbing thoughts away and looked again at Edea. "I… don't know. I didn't serve you too well the last time, if you remember." 

The elegant woman's response was a sad, sweet smile as she gazed at him understandingly. "Do not linger on what happened in the past. That is done. Perhaps now we can help undo some of the damage we have wrought upon this world together. I trust you." 

"But why?" he wondered. "Why don't you have Squall and his buddies looking after you?" 

"Squall is under enough strain as it is, with both Rinoa and Ellone missing," she went on, "and the others have duties of their own. And I trust you because I know you wish to move on, to do what you know deep down to be right. I know this because I feel the same way. You can still live out your dream, Seifer." 

Seifer sighed wearily, his voice growing uncharacteristically quiet. "That's gone… gone for good. I don't think I care for it anymore…" 

Moving out from behind the desk where she had stood by her husband, Edea approached Seifer and gently took his hands in hers. Seifer blinked in surprise at the unexpected contact and the warmth of her fingers clasping his. Her eyes met his, and in them he saw something few had ever shown him. He saw not pity, but empathy and even compassion. 

This wasn't the masked woman who had lured him into becoming her servant two years ago and had twisted his dream into something horrible and unrecognizable. This was his Matron, the kind and gentle sorceress who had cared so much for himself and the others back in the orphanage in Centra. Those days seemed to Seifer like another lifetime now, little more than a faded memory, but he remembered well the Edea of those times. It was she who stood before him now, herself again and no longer a puppet of Ultimecia or any other sorceress. 

"Will you help me?" Matron asked him softly. 

Composing himself, Seifer flashed his typical smirk and nodded. "You've got yourself a knight." 

Edea's answering smile was warm as she rejoined Cid behind the desk. "Thank you, Seifer. You may yet have the chance to see your dream again, as it was meant to be." 

"We'll see," he shrugged, "but how are you going to explain letting the three of us stay here? We were officially expelled after the war, you know." 

"You'll be stated as being on special assignment," Cid answered, "and if you prove yourselves to me and do the best you can in these tasks, I'll see what I can do about getting the three of you reinstated. If that's what you want, that is." 

Raijin nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement. "Ya mean we can be in Garden again? That's great, ya know? I mean, I've missed it around here a bit, to tell ya the truth." 

"We could… come back?" Fujin asked wonderingly, slipping for a moment out of her typically brusque manner of speech. 

Cid nodded. "If you do everything you can to find this traitor and keep Edea out of harm's way. I can't promise anything, though." 

As good as it sounded, Seifer wasn't sure whether he wanted it or not. He had received a number of cold stares in the past few weeks since he'd been here and doubted they'd ever completely go away. And then there were other, more serious complications to think about. 

"Martine's going to be pissed if that happens," he remarked. "You know he's had it out for us ever since he got Galbadia Garden back." 

"Leave him to me," Cid answered firmly. "I'll deal with him when the time comes." 

Seifer shrugged indifferently. If the headmaster wanted to deal with that headache, then he'd let him. "Alright, then. Was that it?" 

"That's it for now, Seifer. The three of you are dismissed, but report here again tomorrow morning at 0800 so I can give you and Quistis a joint briefing before you officially start your investigation. I have a hunch where to start looking, but I'd like to tell you both at the same time." 

Seifer tilted his head in acknowledgement, then turned to his two friends with a broad smirk. "Fujin! Raijin! Looks like the disciplinary committee's back in business!" 

Raijin grinned openly, even tapping his foot in a little semi-dance step. Fujin stood as statuesque as ever, but Seifer thought he could make out the faintest edges of smile teasing her lips. He strode confidently out of the office, his posse flanking him on either side, and for the first time since coming back to Balamb Garden, Seifer felt like he was home. 


	18. Chapter 18

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

**18**

* * *

With a bestial roar that made Squall's eardrums vibrate almost painfully, the rex charged madly across the muddy ground, clawed feet tearing up great clots of earth and vegetation. The huge creature's jaws gaped open with knifelike teeth at least a dozen centimeters long, and beady golden eyes bespoke the thing's primal hunger. Mottled, reddish-black scales armored the rex's body, and its thrashing tail swung menacingly behind it, smashing easily through the trunks of a few nearby trees as it passed. 

Although a T-Rexaur was certainly a fearsome sight, neither was it one Squall was unfamiliar with, especially here in the Garden's own training center. Hyne only knew how many times he and his friends had run into them during the war, especially after the Lunar Cry, and Garden staff always bred a small population of the beasts for the students and faculty to practice their fighting skills against.

The ground trembling beneath him under the thunderous impacts of the rex's racing strides, Squall eyed the approaching monster calmly even as it bore down on him. He could feel the creature's fetid breath as it swiftly closed the distance, and his fingers tightened reflexively around the Lionheart's hilt in anticipation. Adrenaline surged fiercely through Squall's body as the rex loomed over him, abruptly blocking out the light and snapping its jaws in a brutal downward thrust.

Reacting purely on instinct, Squall dove to the left, narrowly missing a crushing bite that would have snapped him in two like a dry twig, and spun back to his right, skillfully bringing up his gunblade in a vicious curving slash across the back of the monster's knee. Great gouts of dark blood spurted from the severed tendons, and the rex bellowed deafeningly in rage and pain as it struggled to find Squall, who was already fast at work on the other leg.

A few deft cuts later, the massive beast collapsed heavily to the ground, smashing through trees and underbrush as it did so. The rex lay on its side, groaning madly and scrabbling at the air with its stubby forelegs as Squall slowly approached, his bloodsoaked gunblade clutched firmly in his gloved hands. He'd already dispatched a few grats before the rex had come thundering into view, but the prospect of a tougher opponent hadn't ruffled him. In fact, he enjoyed it.

The rex's tail whipped out at him unexpectedly, and Squall had to dive to the side to avoid it. Rolling to his feet, he charged straight at the creature's head and brought his gunblade up to strike. Powerful jaws snapped threateningly as the rex sought to defend itself, but Squall dodged instinctively, his feet almost dancing with the motion of his evasive maneuvers.

With a single, powerful thrust, Squall jammed his weapon deep into the monster's eye.

The massive beast shuddered, let out one last agonized roar as the blue-edged Lionheart popped straight through its eyeball and into its brain, and at last lay still. Dust hung lazily in the air as Squall grasped the embedded gunblade firmly with both hands and pulled, but to no effect. In the end, he had to set a booted foot securely against the side of the rex's lower jaw before he could get enough leverage to wrench the weapon free of the dead thing's corpse.

"Not bad," came a familiar voice from behind him. One that Squall had been expecting, actually, although that didn't mean he wanted to hear it, because he didn't. He knew well enough who had come, and why. It wasn't as though what the man had to say was any surprise, really, because Squall could probably come to the conclusion himself. He wasn't about to accept the implications, however.

Wiping his gunblade first against the scaly hide of the creature he had just slain, Squall glanced around for something that might help get as much of the rest of the gunk off as he could. He'd finish up later, but for now there was only so much of the stuff that he could remove. Grabbing a handful of large, fanlike leaves from the plants growing nearby, Squall used his makeshift rags to scrub the better portion of the blood and tissue from his weapon. He grimaced at his handiwork, not caring for the few stains left behind that could only be polished out later, but at the moment, it would have to suffice.

Finally he turned to the man who had spoken. "What do you want, Laguna?"

"Well, you've probably already heard," the older man replied, "but I wanted to tell you myself. After all, it's sort of a family matter, you understand."

Squall narrowed his pale blue eyes dangerously. "Family? Since when were we ever a family?"

_You may be my father, Laguna, but it doesn't make you family. Sis was my family. She and Matron and the rest were my family. You were never there._

He'd heard, of course. That was part of the reason he'd come down here, after all, to vent his frustrations against the mindless beasts that roamed around in this place. Working out, honing his fighting skills, those things always made him feel a little better. Squall's grip on his gunblade didn't loosen as he glared icily at Laguna's somber expression.

His mane of dark hair streaked with a bit more gray than Squall remembered, Laguna sighed heavily. "Squall, this hurts for me as much as for you, but you know I couldn't keep the search teams going forever. Esthar's resources are stretched enough lately as it is."

"How can you just give up on her like that?" Squall retorted angrily. "You, of all people!"

"I love Ellone like she was my own daughter, Squall. You know that probably better than anyone. But at the same time, I can't turn my back on my responsibilities, either. I'd have thought, as the SeeD commander, you'd have understood that."

Squall could feel his blood beginning to boil now. "What about your responsibility to your family? Or have you just abandoned her like you did me?"

"You sure don't pull your punches," Laguna grimaced. "I haven't abandoned her, Squall. You know I'd never do that. Not if there was still hope left."

"Then why'd you call off the search teams?" Squall shot back, his voice steadily beginning to rise. He wasn't quite sure how much more of this he could stand.

The sad, almost broken expression on his father's face only seemed to make Squall angrier. "There wasn't any further reason to keep them out there. We've scoured nearly every square inch of that region down to the last snowflake without finding anything. She's gone, Squall."

"No!" Squall spat furiously. He wouldn't accept it. He couldn't. Squall wasn't about to allow his Sis to be taken from him a second time. "I won't believe it, Laguna. Not until I see her body for myself. She's out there somewhere, damn it! She has to be!"

Laguna gazed sympathetically at him. "Believe me, Squall, I want her back as much as you do, but there's just nothing more we can do now."

"Bullshit!" Squall snarled, suddenly grabbing the other man by the front of his shirt and slamming him against a nearby tree. "She's out there somewhere, and I'm going to find her!"

Although he was as surprised as Laguna at what he had just done, Squall didn't let it show. Instead he scowled angrily at the man that had always been more Ellone's father than his. How could Laguna do this to her? What the hell was he thinking? After having saved her from Dr. Odine and Sorceress Adel when she was just a girl, how could Laguna turn his back on her now?

Slowly releasing his grip on the other man, Squall fumed inwardly, frustrated by his inability to get away from the Garden long enough to find out what had really happened to Ellone. For the past several weeks, he'd been occupied with investigating the Dollet disaster, not to mention recuperating from that nasty wound he'd gotten from one of those strange creatures in the tower.

Although it still ached a bit, his arm was more or less whole now. Dr. Kadowaki had confined him to the infirmary for an entire week upon his initial return to the Garden, and so he'd been unable to preside over the memorial service for the fallen SeeD members and candidates from the ill-fated exam team. The chill in his arm had grown worse, and by the third day he had been slipping in and out of consciousness.

It was only when Matron herself came and spoke to him, her words soft and soothing, that the cold within him had finally begun to relent. Squall remembered lying on the infirmary bed, half-awake in a sort of dreamy haze and dimly aware of her sitting quietly at his side. She had run her delicate fingers along the length of his wounded arm and across his oddly sweaty forehead, murmuring something he could not quite make out. Edea had stayed with him for hours, he remembered now, until the numbness was gone and he had at last fully awoken to find her still there.

Nearly two more weeks had passed since then, and still he was no closer to finding Ellone and Rinoa. No clues had been found concerning his sister's fate, and the Galbadians had yet to speak of the prisoner that Squall knew without any doubt that they had. If it hadn't been for that blasted arm wound, he would have taken the Ragnarok to Galbadia himself and scoured every inch of the damned place until he found her. And then he would have flown to Trabia and found Ellone.

So much time had been wasted already. Squall wasn't sure how much those two women had left, and it was that realization more than anything else that drove him here to the training center on an almost daily basis. For a little while, at least, he could forget about his worries and just let his gunblade dish out his frustrations upon the monsters here. In a way, it was actually quite soothing. Only now, his quiet haven had been irrevocably disturbed.

Squall narrowed his eyes angrily, his voice soft but full of steel as he addressed his father. "Just get the hell out of my sight, Laguna. I've had enough of this."

Without another word or even a backward glance, Squall stalked away deeper into the contained wilderness of the training facility. If he was lucky, a few grats would show themselves long enough for him to cut them down. Somehow, talking with Laguna always made Squall want to lash out at something. He gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly, eyes darting warily back and forth as they carefully scanned the trees and undergrowth, and tried to ignore the rage coiling like fire within his gut.

* * *

  
The darkness, as always, was everywhere. 

Rinoa lay curled in a fetal position in the far corner of her small, lightless prison, her naked body trembling uncontrollably. Whether from fear or cold or perhaps both, she couldn't quite say. Perhaps it didn't really matter, not anymore. The tattered remnants of her clothing, now little more than ragged scraps of damp fabric, lay haphazardly here and there upon the stone floor, but Rinoa could not have put them back on even had she the strength left to do so. There wasn't much left to wear, truth to tell.

Those men, those _animals,_ had seen to that.

She hadn't seen them since they had finished with her some time ago. They had beaten her, cut her, violated her, and then left her huddled in a trembling heap on the cold stone floor. How long ago that had been, Rinoa couldn't say. Time seemed to have no meaning here. It could have been an hour ago, a week ago, or even a month ago. Nothing ever changed in this dark place.

Her captor had not shown himself either since then, and Rinoa wasn't quite sure whether to be glad or uneasy about that. She shivered with the memory of his odd, reddish-pink albino eyes upon her, the cold, measured whisper of his voice in her ear. Ghalein would come back for her eventually, she knew.

He had spoken of her impending execution at the behest of the Galbadian president, Josef Deling. Yet that didn't make any sense. She had met the man once or twice during official visits to negotiate peace talks with the new Galbadian provisional government that SeeD had helped install. Josef Deling, unlike his late elder brother Vinzer, had been eager to forge ties with Garden and SeeD and had even contributed funding for repairs to the damaged Galbadia Garden.

Had he really changed so much in just a single short year? Or, as it seemed more likely now, had he simply been duping her and everyone else all along?

A subtle shift in the air brought Rinoa abruptly out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see the cloaked form of her captor emerge silently from the darkness, his colorless skin seeming almost waxen and dead in the gloom, like that of a corpse that hadn't yet begun to truly decay. Rinoa curled tighter about herself, trying to salvage what little modesty remained to her, although she knew he had likely watched those men rape her and had already seen all that there was to see.

"We meet again, little sorceress," he whispered, his eyes glittering coldly.

Rinoa glanced apprehensively at him. "What do you want?"

In response, Ghalein knelt until his face hovered only a few inches from hers. "You, of course. Why else would I have gone to such trouble to bring you here?"

"But why me?" she wondered, wanting to shrink back from him but strangely unable to do so. "Why did you have to let those… those men… why…?"

"You need fear them no longer, little sorceress, if that is your concern," her captor replied, his voice cold and quiet. "They have served their purpose."

Though relieved that those horrible men would trouble her no more, Rinoa shuddered nevertheless. What purpose could there have been in her violation other than her captor's twisted pleasure? Her virginity had already been given to Squall, her husband, when they married, but that didn't make the pain of what she had gone through in this hellish place any less.

Thinking of Squall, Rinoa sighed longingly. She just wanted to be home with him and with her dog, and if she hadn't been so stubborn about becoming a SeeD, she might still be there. Would she ever see him again? Before the rape, she had still held out hope of escape, but now…

Now it was all she could do to keep from giving in entirely.

"Where… where are they…?" Something about the way Ghalein had spoken froze Rinoa's blood within her veins, and a dark premonition hovered inside her as she met his gaze.

His eyes narrowed slightly, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. "Those men are dead, little sorceress. They were of no further use to me, so when they came to me for their 'payment', I disposed of them. One by one, slowly… and painfully. Very painfully. Does that satisfy you?"

As much as she hated to admit it, Rinoa nodded slowly. Not that she would ever wish on anyone the fate of those men, but if there was anyone at all who deserved it, then in her mind it most certainly was those animals that had so terribly abused her. She knew Squall would probably agree with that sentiment, but it still didn't help her feel any better.

"Why are you doing this?" Rinoa murmured weakly.

Ghalein paused for a moment, then rose back to his full height. As much as she feared him, Rinoa couldn't help but wonder who he was and where he had come from. Something about him drew her, fascinated her as surely as flame attracts a moth, although she didn't know quite what. She remembered the soft, cold caress of his fingers against her skin and how her blood had seemed to flare with heat at his touch. Rinoa shivered involuntarily, disgusted both at her reaction to him and at herself in general.

Folding his arms over his chest, Ghalein peered thoughtfully down at her, and he responded with a question of his own. "How old would you say that I am?"

Rinoa sat up, her back against the damp stone of the sewer wall, crossing her arms over her breasts and drawing her legs up against her abdomen, and gazed up at her captor. Despite his bald scalp and pale skin, she realized that he didn't actually appear to be all that old. His chalky white skin bore no lines or wrinkles, and he held himself without stooping or leaning, his posture and bearing more that of a man in his prime rather than one in his elder years. Yet his strange, reddish-pink eyes bore an odd, ageless intensity within them that spoke more of centuries than of years.

"I… I don't know," Rinoa answered hesitantly. "Thirty-five, maybe? Thirty-eight?"

Ghalein chuckled humorlessly. "An understandable guess. Understandable, but still wrong. I have walked this Planet for over five thousand years, little sorceress."

Her eyes widening, Rinoa stared incredulously at him. "But… but that's impossible!"

"If I were human, you would be correct," Ghalein whispered, his expression growing serious again. "However, I am not. Those who were once my people died out long ago. Ironic, don't you think, that an outcast has survived when those who shut him out have not?"

Rinoa frowned in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

"What better way to cause pain to those who have inflicted it upon you than to turn it upon that which they hold most dear?" Ghalein answered. "The dark Master whom I serve has granted me many things, among them a greatly extended lifespan. I am not immortal, as it might appear, but rather I age quite slowly, perhaps a day for every century that passes."

Although it seemed almost too preposterous to believe, Rinoa knew her captor spoke the truth. It made an odd sort of sense in a way, although it frightened her what a person who had lived so long with such deep hatred held inside him might be capable of. Ghalein seemed to her both patient and cunning, an incredibly dangerous combination indeed.

"So… what happens now?" Rinoa asked, unsure if she really wanted to know the answer.

"As you are no doubt aware," her captor explained, "you are to be publicly executed for crimes against the Galbadian empire. That is the will of Josef Deling."

Tilting her chin up high, Rinoa mustered as much defiance as she could. "My friends will come for me. They won't let that happen!"

Ghalein leaned close, his colorless lips curling upward into a sneer. "Exactly, little sorceress. I am counting on that. The best puppets are those who are not even aware that they are being used."

"W-what?" she stammered, eyes widening.

"They will come, and they will save you," Ghalein went on, each whispered word like a dagger of ice piercing Rinoa's spine. "Or at least, they will believe it is you."

Straightening once more, the cloaked figure of her captor glanced to his right, and for the first time, Rinoa realized that he wasn't alone. Something stood near him, so cloaked in shadow that she couldn't make out what it was, but it seemed humanoid, at least.

The creature shuffled forward, and Rinoa began to understand why she hadn't been able to see it before. Its skin was utterly black, and its limbs long and thin, with spindly, sticklike fingers and toes. Its hairless frame gaunt and thin, the thing seemed more shadow than flesh. Yet it was the creature's face that sent shudders coursing down Rinoa's spine.

Or rather, its lack of a face.

Rinoa fought to keep from trembling as the thing leaned close, its head as smooth and featureless as an egg as it pressed lightly against the side of her neck as though sniffing for something. Cold, clammy hands grasped her arms and legs, forcing them apart with surprising strength, and its long, twiglike fingers began to softly trace the contours of her body. Rinoa shivered, too frightened to move, as the thing seemed to learn and memorize every aspect of her physical form.

"This," Ghalein explained, "is a flesh crafter, one of my more useful creations. Adesté is what you might call a demon, although few such beings possess her, shall we say, talents."

Stinging bolts of pain suddenly shot through Rinoa's body, and she stiffened as the creature's fingers began to dig into the flesh of her abdomen. The demon, as Ghalein had called it, brought its other hand up to the left side of Rinoa's face, the tips of its fingers splayed out across her cheek and temple. Rinoa struggled to free herself, even to move, but the strength seemed to have been drained from her body. She screamed in pain and terror as the demon's fingers began to burrow beneath her skull.

Rinoa felt her eyes roll upward in their sockets as the creature's probing appendages reached her brain. She wanted to die, hoped she would die, but somehow she did not. It was as though, in spite of their presence, Adesté's fingers did no harm to her body.

Her thoughts grew muddled and indistinct, running together without any coherent meaning. Memories arose in her mind, one after the other in an endless, rapid-fire stream of color and motion. She saw herself, garbed in a SeeD cadet's uniform while on that ill-fated mission to Dollet. Her wedding day, a year before, and her disappointment that her father had refused to come. The final battle with Ultimecia, and the feeling of the future sorceress within her own body aboard the Esthar space station.

She saw the dance where she first met Squall. They roamed across the room, clumsy at first but with growing confidence as she kept prodding him. The summer before, while in the midst of her fling with Seifer. They were fishing together in Balamb, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the edge of the docks as the afternoon sun lit the surface of the water like a thousand mirrors. She hadn't cared much for the sport, nor had she been very good at it. But at the time, she had simply enjoyed being with him.

Further back now, Rinoa watched herself run away from home yet again. Only this time, she had sworn never to come back. It had been shortly after that incident that she had journeyed to Timber and founded the Forest Owls with her friends Zone and Watts. The memories kept coming, faster now, as though the demon were absorbing all that she knew, all that she was.

She saw herself, a little girl of five years, crying alone in her room the night her mother had died. Her father had never come in, never even tried to comfort her. Rinoa had always hated him for that, for his insensitivity. A haze of forgotten memories, images of her mother and father in better days, and finally Rinoa found herself seeing her own birth one rainy night in one of those sterile Galbadian hospital rooms. Her infant self had screamed again and again at the strange, cold world she had been suddenly thrust into, until her mother's whispered words of comfort had finally calmed her.

Rinoa screamed, tears leaking from her eyes as the demon wrenched her very identity from her, every thought and memory, even as it drained blood and fluid from her body. Fog swirled through her mind, blotting out the images of the life that was being stolen from her until nothing remained but darkness. She hung in a place of emptiness, her screams slowly fading to little more than frightened whimpers as the probing fingers of her tormentor at last withdrew.

Sagging weakly back against the wall, Rinoa saw her surroundings again. She felt the cold, damp stone against her skin, smelled the rank odor of her own sweat, and tasted bile in her throat. Darkness pressed down upon her almost like a physical weight, and Rinoa suddenly found herself gasping for breath. The moment passed soon enough, however, but she couldn't seem to keep from trembling.

And all the while, Adesté was there, her eyeless gaze cold and indifferent.

For the first time, Rinoa realized that the flesh crafter's black skin had begun to liquefy, glistening like fresh tar. Limbs grew shorter and thicker, more human in proportion. The creature's fingers and toes diminished, clumping into the stubby digits a normal person would have. Adesté's gaunt frame slowly filled out, the gentle swell of her breasts and abdomen clearly indicating a feminine physique.

The creature's head, once smooth and featureless, now began to reform itself, the viscous layers of black semi-liquid skin dripping like hot wax. Adesté tilted her head back as a mouth, nose, and eyes emerged one by one. Locks of dark hair grew from her scalp in a sudden rush as eyebrows and lashes unfurled and her ears bloomed like a pair of twisted flowers.

As the transformation neared its completion, the demon's skin lightened from black to gray, then from gray to pale white. Colors began to emerge then, a series of creamy flesh tones that overlapped each other until finally Adesté seemed to find the one she sought. Her skin then solidified once more as her body at last finished its chilling metamorphosis.

Rinoa stared in horror at a mirror image of herself.

Her own deep brown eyes stared haughtily back at her, the doppelganger's lips turning upward in a sneer. Adesté had duplicated Rinoa in perfect detail, right down to the bruises and cuts those horrible men had inflicted. She too was naked, and Rinoa realized that the flesh crafter would remain here to begin Ghalein's intricate deception of both his supposed leader and of the Garden.

What then, Rinoa wondered, would be her own fate?

Ghalein's whispered voice startled her out her dark thoughts. "Now you begin to understand, little sorceress. Deling is of no further use to me, so what better way to dispose of him than to have my enemies do it for me? Your love will stop at nothing to save you, even if he must slay the leader of the Galbadian nation to do so. But it will be Adesté, not you, that will return with him to Garden."

"Why…?" was all Rinoa could manage. She thought she knew, but she had to be sure.

"To destroy SeeD from within," Ghalein answered, "and to divide the Garden against itself. For in such a state, it cannot focus its attentions elsewhere. There is much we must yet do, and it will be simpler if Garden and SeeD are unable to interfere."

Rinoa blinked in confusion. "We? I don't understand…"

In response, Ghalein extended one pale-skinned hand to her. "You fear your powers, raw and untapped as they are. However, they can be so much more. I can teach you to harness them and make them your own. You will control them, and not they you."

"Why… why would you possibly want… to help me?" Rinoa asked suspiciously. Yet she knew he was right. Ever since becoming a sorceress, she had never felt comfortable with the powers she had gained. Edea had once offered to teach her how to better use them, but Rinoa had been too afraid of her legacy at the time to accept the Matron's offer.

"My reasons are my own," Ghalein replied coldly, "and none of your concern. Your alternative, little sorceress, is to die. Now."

Slumping resignedly against the wall, Rinoa sighed forlornly. Memories swam in her head, but it was as though they belonged to another person. It was a life she held little hope of ever finding again. The hell she had been brutally thrust into, that was her life now. Escape, she knew, was impossible. Her captor was a man over whom the laws of nature seemingly held no sway. What chance did she have against him? None, as it stood now, but maybe…

Rinoa took Ghalein's hand, and he pulled her, not ungently, to her feet. His commanding gaze held her eyes for many long moments, and she had to remember how to breathe. Warmth surged beneath her skin as he ran his fingers lightly across her bare back, smiling faintly as he did so.

"Welcome to the shadows, my little sorceress," Ghalein whispered.


	19. Chapter 19

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

** 19**

* * *

Twilight enveloped the broken, wooded slopes of the mountains as the sun's last rays sent forth streamers of pink and gold and violet over the jagged peaks to the west. The dome of the sky had already grown almost black in the east, but only a few twinkling stars had as yet emerged in the moonless night. A chill, icy whisper of a breeze rustled furtively through the woods, sharing wordless secrets with the trees, but all else was strangely quiet. 

Much too quiet for Cloud's liking.

Cid pulled up beside him, a cigarette firmly clenched in his teeth. "Damn, but this is spooky. Got me the fuckin' jitters and I can't even say the fuck why."

"I know what you mean," Cloud agreed. He shifted his grip on Ayla's reins, trying to give the gold-feathered chocobo a little slack as well as something for his hands to do. He felt they might freeze up in this cold if they held still too long.

Glancing momentarily at his friend, Cloud sighed apprehensively, trying to ignore the feeling of dread slowly building in his gut. He had missed something, somewhere. What it was, he couldn't be sure, but his warrior's instincts nagged incessantly at him, whispering to him in the back of his mind that something just wasn't right. He was sure that Cid, a seasoned combat veteran himself, felt the same way.

The crusty pilot had flown in on the Highwind that afternoon, and rather than have him fly again so soon after an already long trip, Cloud and Tifa had instead suggested he spend the night. All of them would then fly to Cosmo Canyon early the next morning, refreshed and ready to face whatever might come. Red had called yesterday and mentioned stumbling across something he thought was important to the strange puzzle surrounding Ellone, but he had declined to go into detail until he could explain in person.

Cid's chocobo, a green-feathered male named Frog, warbled softly, the sound almost jarring in the stillness as it brought Cloud back from his thoughts. His friend had insisted on accompanying him on his evening patrol tonight, and so here the two of them were, a few hours west of town near the base of the mountains as the sun was slipping tiredly behind the uneven line of the western horizon.

"You think anything's out here?" Cid growled uneasily.

Cloud frowned pensively, his deep blue eyes gazing with a vague sense of disquiet into the woods surrounding himself and his companion. "I'm not sure. Let's keep moving, though. I want to finish our sweep and get home before it gets too late."

They rode further west for another hour or so through the woods, saying little as they watched for anything unusual. Cloud found himself wondering if Iseldra was still out there somewhere or if she had moved on to some other place. He hadn't seen her since their last encounter several days ago, nor had he expected to. But her words still lingered in his mind nevertheless.

The frost maiden had not told him everything, Cloud knew. There had to have been more to her bitter exile than simply a warning falling on deaf ears. As afraid as Iseldra was of the storm she believed she sensed building on the horizon, Cloud had begun to feel that there was a much more personal reason for her depressive melancholy. Whatever that might be, however, he didn't know.

Her reaction to Ellone bothered him more than a little, perhaps because to a certain extent he shared the ice witch's instinct that there was far more to the pretty young brunette than even she knew herself. And how did Aeris tie into all of this? Why had Ellone been so drawn to the image of a young woman she had never met or even heard of before?

A frustrated sigh escaped Cloud's lips as he thought of Aeris. It was she who had helped him begin to find himself again during their journey with the others to defeat Sephiroth. Aeris, with her sparkling emerald eyes, warm and ready smile, and buoyant spirit, had been the first to sense the real Cloud buried under so many false memories. Tifa had ultimately finished the process while submerged with him deep within the Lifestream later on, but it was Aeris who had been the first to see past the mercenary facade he had always worn about him like a second skin.

And yet when it had mattered most, when she had needed him the most, he had failed her.

It was a moment for which Cloud knew he _could_ not, _would_ not, ever forgive himself. Aeris had died right before his horrified eyes, that wicked, curving blade erupting from her chest as her eyes had widened in shock. As long as he lived, Cloud would never forget that single, horrible instant, and the cold, gloating eyes of his nemesis, the man who had slain her. The only solace Cloud had ever found was that he had been able to fight Sephiroth's will enough to keep from killing Aeris himself. 

Cloud mulled over these things as he rode with Cid through the eerily quiet woodlands that carpeted the knees of the mountains. Even in the dead of winter, there should have been at least some sound out here, but there was none save the wind in the trees and his own heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears like a drum. The chocobos crunched steadily through the snow on their scaly toes, but other than that there was nothing else to be heard. It was as though Cloud, Cid, and their mounts were the only living things in this entire stretch of gradually darkening evergreen forest.

After another uneventful half hour, Cloud motioned briefly, and he and Cid turned their mounts south in a slow trot. They'd go along the slope for a bit before turning about and heading for home, just to be sure. What little daylight remained wouldn't last much longer, and Cloud wanted to be well on his way to the house when dark came fully. Normally he stayed out for an hour or so after nightfall, since that was when some of the more dangerous predators tended to come out, but tonight his instincts had been nagging at him to be home well before that, although he couldn't say exactly why.

They turned back east about twenty minutes or so later, the eastern sky now almost totally black ahead and above them. It wouldn't be much longer now before the last lingering bits of sunlight gave way to the growing gloom of the approaching night. Cloud wasn't worried about getting caught out here in the dark, though. Unless the dusk faded faster than usual, he figured that he and Cid should arrive back home before the evening had really set in. At least, he hoped so.

They were little more than an hour away from town when Cloud abruptly pulled his mount to a halt and glanced around warily, clear blue eyes narrowing. He could see only the seemingly endless white drifts of knee-deep snow that he and Cid had been riding through ever since leaving the rugged and forested slopes of the western mountains. The vast white fields were anything but flat, however, often broken by dips or cuts, dells and small ridges dotted with small, leafless shrubs.

The wind had grown stronger and more chill as night drew closer, biting into Cloud's flesh with frigid, hungry teeth. A faint yet unmistakable scent rode its invisible current now, teasing his nostrils with its familiar smell, one he knew far better than he would have liked. It was the coppery tang of drying blood, but whether human, animal, or monstrous, Cloud couldn't tell.

"What's wrong, Spike?" Cid asked, halting his own chocobo. "You see somethin'?"

Cloud shook his head. "Not yet. But there's blood in the air. Can you smell it?"

Sniffing tentatively, Cid nodded. "Yeah, I do, now that you mention it. What do you suppose it is?"

"I don't know," Cloud murmured uneasily, "but I intend to find out."

The scent, as far as he could tell, seemed to be coming from somewhere a bit farther north, so he turned Ayla in that direction and headed cautiously forward, reaching over his shoulder and drawing his weapon just in case. The soft, purplish-white glow of the massive Ultima blade pushed back the gathering shadows a bit and tinted the snow a pale violet in the growing gloom as Cid caught up to him on his right. Cloud noted that his friend had also retrieved his own weapon, a brilliantly feathered seven-foot spear known as the Venus Gospel, and was grasping it in his left hand as he rode.

Cloud scrunched his nose in disgust as another smell, as disconcertingly familiar as the first, reached his nostrils. The bloated, unmistakable stench of death rode the winter breeze, the sickening reek a malodorous harbinger of what lay ahead. And as much as he hoped otherwise, Cloud had a fairly good idea of what was waiting for him just beyond the low ridge cutting into the land a few yards away.

Even so, he nearly gagged at what he saw on the other side.

Blood, fur, and gore lay strewn across the plain in a grisly tableau of macabre death, staining the snow a grotesque reddish-pink. A few scavenger birds fluttered sullenly away from where they had been feasting on the remains of what Cloud guessed had once been a sizable group of monsters. Bandersnatches from the look of it, although he had never heard of them roaming in a pack of this size before.

Bringing his mount to a halt just a few yards shy of the grotesque sight, Cloud dismounted for a closer look. Something didn't seem right, although he couldn't put his finger on it at the moment. Bandersnatches weren't overly dangerous to a trained fighter, even in the small groups they sometimes traveled in, but the monstrous wolflike creatures rarely attacked such prey in the first place, preferring instead lesser animals and injured, unwary travelers.

"What the fuck…?" Cid growled apprehensively, also dismounting.

Cloud didn't answer, but instead walked to his left a bit until he came near to some of the remains. He crouched, his eyes narrowing pensively as he gazed at the bizarre sight, and ran a gloved hand lightly along the side of the mutilated carcass. What he saw didn't ease his mind any, and while he had noticed it even while still sitting atop Ayla's feathered back, he had wanted to confirm it himself.

The bandersnatches hadn't just been killed. They had been _shredded._

Noticing that Cid was following his gaze, Cloud pointed out what he had seen. "Look at the wounds, Cid. The cuts are way too clean for it to have been another monster. I'm guessing they're from a weapon, a blade of some kind, most likely a sword. Maybe two, I can't be sure."

"But why the fuck would a goddamn maniac with a sword be cutting up wolves out the middle of fuckin' nowhere?" Cid took a long drag from his cigarette as he glanced around uneasily.

Cloud shook his head. "I don't think whoever did this went out of his way to kill them. They were just in his path, most likely. The blood's still fresh, not more than an hour old at most, but what puzzles me is that whatever did this doesn't seem to have left any tracks in the snow."

"You're startin' to spook me, Cloud. Ain't nothin' can walk through snow this fuckin' deep and not leave some steps behind. And I haven't seen a single goddamn snowflake in the last three hours, so they still ought to have been here. What the hell did this, a motherfuckin' ghost or something?"

"I don't know," Cloud sighed, his gaze panning over the trampled and bloody patch of snow. "There are plenty of tracks here, but they're all from the wolves, nothing big enough for whatever did this. I've found other dead monsters too, lately, but noth—"

Cloud's eyes widened as a light suddenly seemed to explode in his head, and the disquiet and unease he'd felt all week finally crystallized in one horrifying, terrible moment as he realized what his own instincts had been telling him all along. Why hadn't he seen it sooner? Why the hell had he been so damn blind? It had been right there in front of him the whole time! Every body he'd found had been just a bit further east, a bit closer to town, and they all, now that he thought back on it, had borne signs of being cut apart by a blade rather than torn up by other monsters.

_"Shit!"_ he exclaimed, bolting upright. "It's here!"

"What? What the fuck do you mean, Cloud? Make some goddamn sense, will ya?" Cid's voice reached his ears, but Cloud wasn't hearing it anymore.

He raced back to where he had left Ayla and all but jumped onto her back. If those bandersnatches had indeed been dead for no more than an hour's time, then that _thing_ could be in town by now. Ellone had warned him, had warned all of them, but in spite of the risks involved in taking her in, Cloud hadn't wanted to believe that the terrible hunter she had spoken of would actually find her. And if anyone else happened to be in its way when it did…

Cloud froze, his blood going cold within his veins. "Tifa…"

Thought left him then as he spurred his mount into a flat out run. Cid was yelling something behind him, probably wondering what the fuck he was doing, but Cloud ignored him. He leaned forward in the saddle, urging Ayla to go faster, _willing_ her to go faster. She sped eastward across the snowfields in a hazy blur of brilliant gold, leaving Cid and Frog behind struggling to catch up. Few chocobos of any kind could match Ayla's great speed, for she was incredibly fast even for a gold. Nevertheless, it would still be a good fifteen to twenty minutes at least before Cloud reached home.

He could only pray he would get there in time.

* * *

  
Tifa hummed contentedly to herself as she carefully laid the plates out on the kitchen table. She had taken the night off from work to get ready for the flight to Cosmo Canyon the next morning, so she busied herself with getting dinner ready for herself and the others. Cloud and Cid would be home from their patrol soon, maybe in another hour or so, and Tifa wanted them to be able to have a nice hot meal after being out in the freezing cold all afternoon.

As oddly amusing as she sometimes found her transition to domestic life, she had to wonder sometimes how and when it had happened. Tifa didn't mind it all that much, really, but she supposed that was the effect having a baby would have on a person. She only hoped she'd be able to get her figure back after her son was born, so that she could feel at least somewhat like her old self again.

Not that she'd have much time for fighting and adventuring, anyway, but she always liked to keep in shape and keep her skills honed just the same. One of Zangan's first lessons to her, when he had first begun teaching her martial arts so long ago, was that she should always seek to increase her knowledge and training and never forget what she had learned. It was a lesson she had taken to heart, much like that dear, gray-haired bear of a man who had always been as much a father figure to her as a teacher and mentor. He traveled often, however, so she had never seen as much of him as she might have liked.

The table set, Tifa moved to the stove to check on the food. She hoped Elle would be back soon with that nutmeg. Tifa hadn't realized earlier that she'd run out, but when she had made that discovery, Elle had offered to pick some up for her at Hamfast's little store down the street. The food might have been fine enough without the additional seasonings, but Tifa had never been one to settle for just okay as far as her cooking was concerned. Her mother had taught her to cook when she was young, and over the years it had become more than just a hobby for her. It was a passion, an art form, at least the way Tifa saw it.

In any case, Tifa appreciated Elle's offer. Her friend had insisted on helping out, and Tifa couldn't blame her. At least now they might soon be able to help her find the answers she needed and perhaps a way back to her home, wherever that might be. Elle seemed to be more or less whole again, at last beginning to leave the pain of her injuries behind her, and for that Tifa was glad.

She had finally taken the last of the bandages off the other day, much to Elle's relief, and while her friend still favored her injured ankle a little, she was able to move about with no pain and only a little stiffness. Elle had since taken to going on walks outside, mostly during the day but sometimes at night, and Tifa well understood her friend's desire to get her strength back.

Vincent usually accompanied Elle on her walks, as he was doing so tonight. Tifa smiled to herself at the thought. There was something about those two, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. However, she had never seen Vincent as devoted to anyone as he was to Ellone. Tifa knew he felt responsible for her, since he was the one who had originally found Ellone injured and dying in the snow that fateful night, but even so, Tifa wondered if there might not be something more.

Whatever might happen, she thought that, when Ellone finally left, Vincent was going to miss her more than he realized, and perhaps vice versa. It was only a guess, of course, or maybe feminine intuition, but Tifa hadn't missed the looks the two had exchanged during their time here. It was awfully romantic, she had to admit, and she hoped that, if there was something brewing between them, that they might someday have the chance to discover and explore it.

A swift, soundless blur of motion out the kitchen window above the sink caught Tifa's attention and brought her out of her thoughts. She peered out through the glass panes but saw nothing save the snow in the yard and the blackness of the night sky. Had she just imagined it? Was she that tired, or was it maybe an aftereffect of her daydreaming?

Nothing revealed itself to her, so she went back to the stove. No sooner had she done so, however, than out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw something pass by outside the kitchen door. Tifa paused, her fingers curling almost involuntarily into fists, and wondered if she wasn't imagining things. Nevertheless, she inched her way cautiously toward the door.

Had Ellone and Vincent come back already? They had only left ten minutes ago, and it took at least that long just to walk down to the store from here. Even so, why wouldn't they have come straight in, if indeed they were outside? Unease grew in Tifa's mind, her fighter's instincts telling her something was amiss. She was probably just overreacting, jumping at shadows, but even so, Tifa had always believed in being prudent whenever possible.

Brushing a few strands of long, dark brown hair from her eyes, Tifa tentatively grasped the smooth metal of the doorknob and turned it. The creaking of the hinges as the door swung open seemed louder than she remembered, but that might have just been her own nervousness. Goosebumps rose on her arms as a puff of cold air washed over her, and she stepped warily out into the frigid night.

Nothing was there.

"Hello?" Tifa called out tentatively. "Is anyone out here? Ellone? Vincent? Is that you?"

There was no answer. It must have just been the wind, she decided. Feeling more than a little silly, Tifa headed inside. She supposed she just wasn't used to having the house all to herself anymore. For the better part of the last month, Elle and Vincent had been keeping her company here. She had forgotten how quiet the place could be with nobody else there.

Tifa had just begun to shut the door behind her when it suddenly slammed open, banging against the wall so hard it sounded like a gunshot had gone off. She staggered backwards, eyes widening in fright as something huge and black and utterly cold surged through the doorway. Tifa felt her blood turn to ice as the thing bore down on her, its eyeless sockets gazing impassively at her from behind an expressionless mask of frigid metal. Her heart beating a frantic staccato rhythm within her breasts, Tifa tried to run, tried to get herself and her baby away from the horrible thing that had entered her home, but the cloaked, shadowy figure was upon her before she could take her third step.

A single terrified scream escaped her lips as she felt the bite of cold steel entering her flesh.


	20. Chapter 20

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

**20**

* * *

Ellone slowed as she neared the house. A shiver worked its way through her body, and she realized it wasn't from the cold. In spite of Vincent's stoic, protective presence not five feet away, she felt anxiety gnawing at her belly nonetheless. It only grew worse as she saw that the kitchen door was ajar, swinging listlessly on silent hinges. 

Whatever it was, Vincent must have felt it too, because he drew one of his handguns and moved ever so slowly toward the door, keeping his body between the house and Ellone. If something dangerous was in there, it would have to go through him to get to her. Apprehension filled her mind, but whether it was hers or Vincent's or both, she couldn't tell. The odd, mental link between them was always hazy like that.

The wind seemed unnaturally loud in Ellone's ears as she followed Vincent across the snow to the side of the house where a soft pool of warm yellow light should have been visible from the kitchen windows. There was nothing there but darkness, however, and somehow she didn't think it was because Tifa had simply turned the lights off. Something was terribly wrong, and Ellone didn't need the bond to tell her that Vincent was thinking the same thing.

He pushed the door open, and as he did so, Ellone noticed that the top hinge was wrenched almost entirely out of the doorframe while the one just below was bent far out of shape. Whatever had come through here had nearly ripped the door right off the wall in the fury of its entrance. Had her pursuer found her at last? Ellone shuddered at the possibility but couldn't deny that it seemed more than likely.

Staring into the open doorway was like staring into the entrance to a tomb, she thought with a chill. She couldn't make out anything inside at first, and she realized that there weren't any other lights on in the house, either. The kitchen and beyond lay within a nest of murky shadows that afforded the hunter far more hiding places than Ellone would have liked. As her eyes slowly began to adjust to the dimness, she shattered the heavy silence with a strangled, horrified gasp.

Tifa lay facedown on the kitchen floor in a steadily widening pool of her own blood.

Frozen in place, Ellone shook with fear and disbelief and a sudden, overwhelming sense of guilt that seemed to paralyze her where she stood. _It's all my fault! I led that thing here, it came here for me, not her! Oh, Hyne, is she dead? Please don't die, Tifa! Please!_ Tears leaked from her eyes, sliding unheeded down her cheeks, her knees turned to water, and she couldn't seem to keep from trembling.

Ellone had only just registered the rush of movement from the side when she looked up to see Vincent firing into the darkness to her left. She clapped her hands over her ears over the din of the gunfire, so much louder here than outside, and tried to make her way to where Tifa lay unmoving on the floor. Elle sank to her knees and crawled toward her friend, stretching her hands out in front of her to balance herself. Almost immediately, her fingers touched something wet and warm. It was Tifa's blood.

Shivering with terror and shame, Ellone looked up into the hooded countenance of the tireless, relentless black hunter. Eyeless sockets devoid of more than just eyes gazed apathetically back at her, the shimmering steel mask bereft of any emotion whatsoever. If this creature took any pleasure in the death it brought, it did not show it. Massive and foreboding, the cloaked fiend hovered before her, more shadow than substance yet no less deadly for it. Twin, wickedly sharp swords dove toward her with inhuman speed, _Ne'uime_ and _Ja'sathra_ ready to finish what they had begun.

White light exploded into her field of vision, but not from her. There was a loud, metallic clang as a wide, glowing blade slammed in front of the hunter's two swords, definitively blocking the attack. Startled, Ellone saw through her tear-streaked vision that it was not Vincent that had saved her, but Cloud. She hadn't heard him arrive, but the rage in his blue eyes told her well enough that he had seen what had happened to his wife. Ellone wondered if he would turn that anger upon her as well.

Her pursuer lunged at her again, this time from the side. One moment the creature had been in front her, the next it was cutting at her from off to the right. Ellone felt a whoosh of air as she instinctively rolled away, and she suddenly didn't want to know how close she had just come to having her insides strewn across the floor. Fitting punishment for what she had wrought, but she still didn't want to experience it.

Ellone felt herself yanked to her feet and shoved backward, and she realized Vincent had put her again behind him. This time he had exchanged his handguns for the Death Penalty, firing round after round at the elusive creature and hitting nothing but air. Elle could feel his frustration through the bond and understood that if the hunter wasn't destroyed or driven off soon, Vincent wouldn't have much more ammo with which to fire his weapons and keep it at bay.

A primal roar of pain and rage suddenly split the air, and Ellone realized the voice behind it belonged to Cloud. He was slashing madly at the creature again and again, his huge sword glowing a pure, powerful white rather than its customary purple. Whatever it was, the hunter seemed to shrink back from it as though it were a flaming brand that could incinerate it instantly.

Ignoring the spectacle for the moment, Ellone crawled past Vincent and made her way again to Tifa's side. Trying not to think about the blood she was kneeling in, Elle grabbed her friend by the waist and turned her over so she was lying on her back. Tifa's skin was cool and clammy to the touch, and several livid slashes ripped across her chest and midsection. The only reason she hadn't been totally dismembered like poor Starlight, Ellone guessed, was because her pursuer had been more intent on finding her than on utterly destroying anything in its path. Even so, fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she saw the ugly red gouge in Tifa's swollen abdomen.

Ellone choked back a sob. "The baby…!"

At that moment, something inside her snapped. It wasn't often that Ellone ever got angry, or even irritated. But fury now seemed to fill her entire being, rage at herself for letting this happen, and at the cruel hunter for so terribly hurting her friend and the baby inside her. The familiar tingling in her blood became a firestorm, and as she threw out her arms, a scream of grief and anger exploded from her with as much force as the brilliant stream of white fire that followed it.

Her power surging within her like thunderbolts crackling through her veins, Ellone slammed her enemy through the kitchen window, glass exploding in a hail of jagged shards as the bright flames of her anger banished the darkness to the farthest corners of the house. The wide, broken frame above the sink gaped open into the frigid night like a badly pulled tooth.

Ignoring the cold and heedless of the biting wind, Ellone followed her enemy outside, determined to put an end to this. Her blood was liquid fire, and she both feared and embraced it. Never had she felt so powerful, so alive. Yet at the same time, she seemed to be a stranger in her own body, watching herself become someone she did not know.

Steel flashed in her vision, and she dodged before her thoughts had even begun to register the movement. Her enemy was upon her again, but this time she would not cower. Darkness surged out from the trees, a deadly thing best left to nightmares, and for the first time, it showed itself fully. The cloak, she realized, was not a garment at all. It wrapped itself around her enemy's form, shrouding it in deepest shadow, then suddenly flared out to either side.

The demon's wings flapped, and her enemy rose into the icy air.

Ellone thrust out her arms again as the creature dove toward her, and a burst of white fire streaked out at it. Suddenly it was gone, moving too quickly for the eye to follow. It was as though physical space had no meaning for this hellish assassin. She whirled, throwing a stream of flame behind her just as her enemy closed on her from the other side.

Again her enemy spun out of sight, evading her attack. The thing seemed to move like a ghost. Instinctively, Ellone dropped to the snow, and the demon's twin blades sailed harmlessly overhead through the space where her neck had been a moment before. She rolled as Pain and Suffering immediately dove downward, and while she escaped Suffering, Pain's icy teeth grazed her arm.

Suddenly she wasn't alone. Above her, Cloud was slicing at the demon with his glowing blade, and the deafening report of a shotgun blast told her that Vincent was nearby. Cid was there, too, it seemed, jabbing and cutting with his feathered spear for all he was worth. Ellone rose to her feet and let the fire within her streak out into the night, turning it into temporary day. Her enemy shrank back before her, and at last it melted into the darkness and was gone.

Ellone felt the rage within her subside, but the warmth of her power still surged in her blood. For a moment she just stood there and tried to comprehend what in the world she had just done. Never in her life had she felt so out of control, so furious. Even so, the experience was intoxicating, and she savored every moment of it, letting it fill her entire being with its fiery touch.

"Can somebody please tell me what the fuck just happened here?" Cid spat.

The gruff pilot's explosive demand jerked Ellone back to herself in an instant, and her eyes widened as she at last remembered why she had gone so berserk in the first place. "Tifa!"

She ran back into the house, afraid that her power might fade again at any moment, and knelt beside her fallen friend. Dimly she noted that the others had followed her inside, but she ignored them. Tenderly placing one hand over that horrible wound in Tifa's belly and the other over her friend's heart, Ellone slid within herself and felt her power overcome her again.

As with Squall's scar, her hands traced the injuries, gently probing them until she found what she was looking for. She could feel Tifa's pain as though it was her own, and for a moment she could almost see it, like a cloud of dark vapor over her friend's spirit. Tifa's pulse fluttered faintly, and within her ruptured abdomen, her baby's heart beat almost too weakly even for Ellone to detect. They were dying, and Ellone didn't think even her power could save them.

Nevertheless, she was going to try. She _had_ to.

Light flared out from her hands, diving into the open wounds like a flurry of silver comets. Ellone felt power surging out from her, draining her even as it desperately strove to restore her friend. Still she let it flow out of her, willing it to be enough. It had to be. There was no other choice. Even if it killed her, Ellone was going to bring Tifa and the baby back from death's chill grasp.

Ellone squeezed her eyes shut as she dove even deeper with her power, and for the first time, she felt the shadows and pain in her friend's body begin to recede. She felt those terrible wounds begin to knit themselves up, the sundered flesh becoming whole again. Tifa's heartbeat grew stronger, her pulse more regular, and within her womb, the baby's injuries closed and its vital signs began to stabilize.

Opening her eyes, Ellone blinked back sudden tears of both relief and shame as Tifa stirred and began to wake. Cloud held her in his arms, cradling her so gently he seemed afraid she might break if he moved her. As she felt the tempest within her body at least begin to recede, Ellone backed away from her friends, somehow unable to meet their eyes. What would they say to her? What would they do?

Not waiting to find out, Ellone staggered outside, sinking to her knees in the snow, and let the tears come.

She wept, wrapping her arms beneath her breasts as her chest hitched with choked sobs which she made no effort to hold back. _It's all my fault!_ The words repeated themselves endlessly in her mind, a chorus of self-recrimination that taunted her again and again. _Tifa and the baby nearly died because of me! No matter where I go or what I do, it's always the same! Why won't it ever end?_

It was as though she were cursed somehow. Someone or something sinister was always after her, trying to capture or kill her, and most of the people she had ever been close to had gotten hurt because of it. Uncle Laguna, Squall, Raine, her parents, the rest of the orphanage gang, and now Tifa and the baby. No wonder she was always so alone.

"You should not be out here," Vincent's soft voice drifted to her from behind. "It is dangerous."

Ellone struggled to compose herself, rising weakly to her feet but not turning yet to face him. Part of her was afraid of what she might see there. Would it be disappointment? Anger? Hate, even? As distraught as she was, she wouldn't have blamed him for feeling any or all of those things. In fact, she almost expected him to. Yet what Ellone felt through the bond was none of those things. Hesitantly, she looked at him, tears still wet and glistening on her cheeks.

His pale, handsome face bore the same stoic expression he always seemed to wear like a mask, but it was Vincent's eyes that held Ellone's attention. Those deep, reddish-brown irises of his gazed at her more softly than she remembered, and through the bond she felt something she hadn't expected or hoped for, least of all from him. Yet it was there just the same, that quiet concern for her that he always seemed to have. As much as she wanted to, Ellone couldn't accept it so easily this time.

A long, weary sigh escaped her lips. "I know, I just… I just had to… get away…"

"You don't have to explain," he replied.

Ellone almost laughed. How could he say that, after all that had just happened? Even if she wanted to, she couldn't have begun to figure out what she had done, let alone explain it to him. It was as much a mystery to her as to anyone else, and that scared her more than she cared to admit. Her power was changing and growing within her into something both wondrous and terrifying, and it was all she could do to keep from losing herself in the midst of it.

Suddenly she was trembling, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "I… I'm so scared, Vincent… I don't know what… what's going on, what's h-happening to me…"

One moment, Vincent was standing just outside the kitchen door, the next, she felt him standing close to her, gently tying a cloth over the bloody patch of her blouse just beneath her right elbow. She had all but forgotten about the cut she'd gotten from one of the demon's blades, and in her distress hadn't even noticed it or the stinging pain until just now.

"You asked me to protect you, and I will," Vincent reminded her. "That has not changed."

Ellone felt the fingers of his good hand brush against hers as he started to let go of her wounded arm, and rather than let them fall away, she grasped them in both of her hands, wanting and needing the physical contact as though she were afraid he might suddenly disappear. She looked up at him for a moment, grateful just that he was there with her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A discreet cough sounded from the direction of the house, and Ellone let go of Vincent's hands and stepped away, wiping her eyes as best she could and trying not to blush. Cloud stood in the kitchen doorway, one arm wrapped around Tifa's waist and the other grasping his weapon. The massive blade no longer shone a solid white but instead its customary purple, and in its steady glow, Ellone could see from the firm set of his jaw that he had made up his mind about something.

He turned to her, and his gaze was not unkind. "Are you alright, Ellone?"

"Yes, I… I'm fine, but… is Tifa okay? And the baby? I… I'm so sorry, Cloud, it's all my fault! That thing was after me, not her… I just…"

"You saved them, remember?" he told her. "They would have died if it weren't for you. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine. I should have seen this coming a lot sooner."

Ellone stared at him. "How can you say that? If it weren't for me, it never would have happened at all."

"Oh, stop that," Tifa chided. Her voice seemed a bit weak, but otherwise she looked fine. "We knew the risks when we decided to help you, Elle. Don't go blaming yourself for it. I'm not. Besides, we don't have time for that now, anyway."

As relieved as she was that Tifa was recovering, Ellone couldn't dismiss her sense of guilt so easily. Her mere presence had wrought more pain over the course of her life than she thought she could bear, and this latest incident was just another in a long line of such occurrences. She would give anything to be free of that horrible legacy but held little hope that it might actually happen.

"Cid's prepping the Highwind right now," Cloud went on. "We're getting out of here now, tonight, before that thing comes back. We'll talk more about what happened once we get to Cosmo Canyon and Red can fill us in on what he's got, understand?"

She nodded, and Cloud took Tifa across the yard to the stables to get a mount for the short ride to the airship. Taking a breath to calm herself, Ellone started to follow when she felt Vincent's good hand come to rest on her shoulder. He had taken off his cloak and now held it out for her, and she slipped into it gratefully. The cold was so constant here that she hardly noticed it anymore, but it was still nice to have something warm to keep it out. 

On impulse and without really thinking about it, Ellone wrapped her arms around Vincent's chest and hugged him tight for a moment, resting her cheek upon his shoulder. It wasn't the cloak, or at least not just that, because he'd lent it to her before on more than one occasion. Mostly, she just wanted to be near him, to feel the pleasant warmth of his body close to hers.

At last, and with some reluctance, Ellone let go and stepped away. "Well, I guess we'd better get going."

Vincent tilted his head in acknowledgement and led Ellone in the direction Cloud and Tifa had gone just a few moments earlier. The stable wasn't that far away, and before long, two chocobos rode out at a brisk trot towards the edge of town and the snowfields where Cid's airship waited.

Sitting with Vincent upon a blue-feathered female named Marle, Ellone grasped the chocobo's reins steadily in her hands and tried not to think about the last time she had ridden one of these birds. The pleasant sensation of Vincent's arms around her waist as he sat behind her in the saddle was a welcome distraction, however, and the journey proved uneventful.

She and Cloud rode their mounts up the airship's boarding ramp and directly into the Highwind's own stable a few minutes later, and after feeding Marle some greens and brushing out her feathers, Ellone followed the others to the bridge, marveling at the enormity of the vessel. It probably could have rivaled Squall's ship, the Ragnarok, in size, although she guessed that the Estharian cruiser was better armed and armored than the Highwind.

A deep, steady thrumming filled the air as the ship's engines roared to life, and within moments the world was dropping away as the Highwind took off. Ellone watched from one of the portside windows as the forests and mountains of Icicle shrank into insignificance. They looked like the set of some giant's model train, little trees and rivers and hills all laid out before her in a wondrous panorama.

The Highwind banked to starboard and headed west, racing through the night.


	21. Chapter 21

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

**21**

* * *

Pressing her ear against the door, Sara tried to listen as best she could to the conversation going on inside her father's office. She didn't worry about the guards, because her father hated having them around and so they were never in this area of the palace. The closest ones were at the end of the hall, and they had been easy enough to sneak past. Things had gotten very odd around here over the past several months, and Sara intended to find out why. 

She had a hunch that _he_ was behind it somehow. That bald man with the cold eyes and the reptilian stare.

Nothing had been the same here since her father had appointed the shadowy and mysterious Ghalein as his personal advisor almost six months ago, seemingly from out of nowhere. Josef Deling had always been ambitious, but until this cloaked stranger had arrived, he had tempered it with the decency and integrity his elder brother had never possessed. Sara hadn't mourned her uncle's demise, but she cared enough about her father that she was determined to get to the bottom of his recent odd behavior.

At the top of her class at Galbadia Garden, Sara had always excelled in her studies and training. That came as little surprise to her, since she had inherited her father's unflinchingly driven nature. More than anything, she wanted him to be proud of her, to smile again like he had before her mother had died so mysteriously less than half a year ago. Sara herself was still trying to recover from the shock of it all, from coming home on leave to find her mother dead of a heart attack.

The timing, of course, was all too convenient. Ghalein had first arrived no more than a month later.

Sara, who with her green eyes and thick braid of golden hair could have been a younger version of her mother, had gone back to Garden and buried herself in her classes. No matter how hard she tried, though, she couldn't escape from the pain. It was still there, a cold pit in her stomach, but the really terrible thing was that she was starting to get used to it.

Shaking off her thoughts, Sara tried to make out what her father and Ghalein were saying. Something about a prisoner, she thought. It didn't surprise her all that much, and in any case she wouldn't have put it past Ghalein to hold someone captive for whatever dark reasons he had. He seemed capable of anything, be it kidnapping, coercion… even murder.

"I trust the captive will be ready when the time comes?" That was her father's voice, as brisk and polished as the black leather boots he always wore.

A soft whisper slithered through the air as Ghalein replied. "Her fate is sealed, as you well know. She will be ready. I have seen to it."

"No doubt you have. I expect it will be quite the show when we bring her out tomorrow night."

"Oh it will," Even from behind the door, Sara could hear the subtle shift in Ghalein's icy voice. "You can be certain of that."

The cloaked advisor had never spoken to Sara, nor did he seem to talk much to anyone except her father. What were his reasons for being here? Sara wasn't sure she wanted to find out, but she knew there had to be more than he was letting on. Most of the time he kept to himself, but anyone who had spent time in the presidential palace over the last few months knew of his chill presence well enough.

Although she would have rather stayed at Garden and away from this mess, Sara hadn't been able to ignore what was happening to her father, and so when he had called and asked her to come home for a few days—he had mentioned something about wanting her to witness an upcoming ceremony or something—she had packed a few things and taken the next train to Deling City.

Sara had heard about the infamous Dollet massacre, at least as her father told it. From what he had said, SeeD forces from Balamb Garden had wiped out the population and destroyed the communications tower, apparently trying to cow Galbadia into submission. He had told her that they had been led by a sorceress, one Rinoa Heartilly, whom he considered a traitor to her own country.

Pursing her lips in thought, Sara struggled to recall where she had heard the name before, why it seemed so familiar. She knew that the sorceress—who was Sara's own age, now that she thought about it—had been deeply involved in the war two years ago and had since wed the SeeD commander, a young man named Leonhart or something. But that wasn't what nagged at her. For endless moments it hung right on the tip of her tongue, until finally it came to her.

Rinoa Heartilly was General William H. Caraway's estranged daughter.

Was this girl, whose father was the leader of the Galbadian military, the prisoner that Ghalein and her father were talking about? Sara couldn't see who else it could be, but why? Obviously the young sorceress had been taken captive during the Dollet incident, but for what purpose? As much as what she had been told repulsed her, Sara couldn't bring herself to believe that her father's version of the Dollet massacre was true. She had been in Garden long enough by now to know they didn't work that way, especially the one in Balamb, and would never exterminate an entire town.

Sara inched the door open ever so slightly, trying to get a glimpse of what was going on in there. Through the narrow crack, she could see her father, dressed as always in his Galbadian military uniform, complete with braided yellow epaulets on his shoulders and a handful of medals hanging above his left breast pocket. He had spent much of his life in the armed forces, unlike his brother Vinzer, and had risen to the rank of general, equal to the legendary Caraway.

The robed, shadowy form of Ghalein loomed over the Galbadian president despite being only slightly taller than the other man. Sara supposed it was the aura of sheer power and cunning that the mysterious advisor always seemed to carry with him. He had some kind of hold over her father, she had already concluded, but it wouldn't be easy to break, nor could she do it alone.

"You'll be there, won't you, Ghalein?" her father asked. "I'm sure you want to see the sorceress die almost as much as I do."

The bald advisor shook his head. "It is your show, not mine. You know I prefer not to be seen."

"A pity. You would have enjoyed it, I'm sure."

Ghalein's reply chilled Sara's blood. "I will. Tomorrow night will be very, very satisfying indeed."

"I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty, my friend," Josef's voice sounded almost amused.

"Pain is but another tool for shaping events to one's satisfaction. We both know how Garden will react to what will occur. You have wanted this for a long time, the chance to finish what your brother started, to complete what he left untended."

Josef frowned. "Have I? I can't seem to figure that out anymore, to be honest."

"You have," Ghalein leaned toward the other man, his voice growing so low that Sara could barely hear what he was saying. "Do not question what I have told you, Josef Deling. You know only what _I_ allow you to know. There is nothing more than that."

Sara had always thought of her father as imposing, with his six-foot height and typically rigid demeanor, but she saw something then that truly disturbed her. Josef seemed to wilt from behind his burnished oak desk, looking like a frightened child in comparison to the ominous, robed figure that stood before him. When Sara heard her father speak again, his voice had a distant quality to it, as though he wasn't really there anymore but instead someplace far away.

"I… I understand. You're right, Ghalein, I don't know… what came over me. I must be tired…"

"Then rest," the bald advisor commanded. "You will need it for tomorrow night. I will go check on the sorceress, to be certain she is ready."

Josef nodded. "You do that, and I… I believe I'll retire for the night. It's going to be an eventful day tomorrow, after all."

"Indeed it will be. I expect SeeD will attempt a rescue. They will not allow the girl to be killed, especially her lover. You know as well as I that the Lionheart is not to be underestimated."

"Of course," Josef agreed, composing himself, "but we've prepared for that. The memorial plaza will be filled with troops, as you know, and snipers will be stationed inside the arch. If anyone tries to get near the platform, they'll never make it. And if they do, there's another surprise waiting for them."

Sara blinked. This all seemed suddenly unreal, seeing her father become someone more like her uncle than the man who had raised her with discipline but also with a stern, quiet sort of love. Despite his years in the military, her father had never been the sort of man to strike first and talk later, preferring instead to save force as a last resort. But now he was about to execute a young woman just for being what she was and for having the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And that bastard Ghalein was encouraging him, keeping him on that track.

"Of course," he whispered. "I helped devise it, did I not?"

Josef smiled, and a shiver ran up Sara's spine. That smile was too much like the ones her uncle used to flash. Like a shark, maybe, or a snake. "I almost hope the SeeDs do make it to the platform, my friend. It would be fun to spring our little trap on them."

"Indeed. It would save you the trouble of killing the sorceress yourself, were that to happen."

"There is that, isn't there?" Josef mused, rubbing his chin. "But I'd prefer to burn the witch myself, you know. One of her kind killed my brother, so it's only fitting that I return the favor."

Ghalein nodded. "As you wish. Go and rest, and I will see to the prisoner."

Having heard enough, Sara backed away, ducking into a nearby alcove just as the office door swung open. Her heart thudding against her ribs like a bass drum, she watched as the shadowy form of her father's advisor swept out of the doorway. For a moment, Sara was sure he was going to find her, and indeed his cold, oddly pink eyes swept across the seemingly deserted hallway as though searching for something. But he moved on without pausing, and Sara finally remembered to breathe.

Seized by a sudden and undeniable impulse that she could neither explain nor refuse, Sara crept after Ghalein, following him through the palace. She kept at a safe distance, staying behind pillars or corners when possible, lest he turn and discover her. Driven as much by curiosity as by need, she followed him like a shadow into the lower levels of the building.

She encountered few guards, and those she did see, she avoided without incident. It wasn't all that hard, really. Sara had been doing it since she was a child. Hiding from the soldiers and staff in her father's estate had always been a favorite game of hers while growing up, and doing it here proved little challenge for her. The common ranks of Galbadian troops were notorious worldwide for their hapless ineptitude, and even the elite palace guards were usually little better.

Sara hid out of sight around a corner as Ghalein slipped into the palace library on the first floor. What could he want in there? Sara approached the door and peered inside to see her quarry disappearing around a nearby bookshelf. Not wanting to lose sight of him, she tiptoed into the room and glanced around, trying to keep up with Ghalein's elusive form.

Following him to the very back corner of the library, Sara hid behind one of the tall oak bookcases and watched as the robed advisor approached a bookshelf fixed to the far wall. Glancing around to make sure he was alone, Ghalein reached into the middle row and started to pull out one of the thick, leatherbound volumes. Something clicked, as though a spring had gone off, and the book halted about halfway out.

The floor rumbled beneath Sara's feet as the entire bookshelf Ghalein was standing in front of slid aside to reveal a darkened tunnel hidden behind it. Sara gazed at the black opening with less surprise than she would have guessed. A secret passage here in the palace didn't seem so unusual, she decided, given the nature of the place. No doubt it led somewhere unpleasant.

She waited as Ghalein disappeared into the gloom of the passageway until the bookshelf had slid shut behind him. Even then, Sara didn't move for a few endless moments, wanting to be sure that he would be far enough down the tunnel that he wouldn't discover her when she followed behind. Not that it mattered, she supposed, since the corridor had looked utterly black, but with Ghalein, Sara was going to take no chances. He hadn't taken a lamp or anything with him, so she had to assume the darkness wouldn't hinder his sight the way it would interfere with hers.

Taking a light with her wouldn't be any better, Sara knew well enough, since it would alert Ghalein instantly to her presence. She'd just have to feel her way along the corridor and hope that there was some sort of illumination in there somewhere. Otherwise she might not only lose sight of her quarry, but also find herself unable to make her way back here.

Sara hesitated for a moment, gazing at that shelf and pondering whether to finish this odd little errand of hers or to give up while she still had the chance. She'd learned enough already from the conversation between her father and his strange advisor, but still she couldn't quite bring herself to turn away just yet. She supposed her natural curiosity was at least partly to blame, but she also knew that this was an opportunity she couldn't afford to pass up. Not if she was going to get her father back.

After a mental count to ten, Sara moved to the bookshelf and found what she was looking for, a nondescript manual bound in blue leather much like the other books here. Had she not seen Ghalein pull it out, she would likely not have even noticed it, let alone picked it up as she was preparing to do now. Letting out a slow, deep breath, Sara pulled the book as far out as it would go until she heard the telltale click of the hidden door's release mechanism.

The bookshelf slid aside with a groan of protest, and Sara plunged into the gloom.

* * *

Taking another sip of brandy, William Caraway gazed out the window near his desk and sighed. It was happening all over again, or at least that was what it felt like. Galbadia was a hornet's nest, restless and on the brink of war. The last time this had happened was with the arrival of a sorceress. Caraway thought it ironic that a sorceress was at the center of things yet again, but somehow he could find no amusement in that thought. Perhaps it was because this whole thing came much too close for his liking. 

She was, after all, his daughter.

Caraway still didn't quite understand how Rinoa had become a sorceress, even though she had tried to explain it to him once. Not that they'd gotten very far before picking up their usual arguments. That was probably why she hadn't visited much over the years. He and Rinoa had been bickering on and off for the better part of two decades, and he didn't think there was much hope of it ever changing.

Maybe if Julia had still been alive, she'd have probably been able to talk some sense into her daughter, but she'd been taken from them both so suddenly. It had been raining hard the day she took that fateful drive, and the weather had probably played some part in the accident. It didn't matter, though, because Julia should never have been in that car in the first place. She wouldn't have if Caraway hadn't argued with her again that night. He didn't even remember what it had been about, only that his wife had gotten so angry with him that she had stormed out and taken the car for a drive to calm herself down.

How many times had he wished he could have taken those words back, wished he could have told her not to go out there? It was his fault she had died, and he knew it was what had driven Rinoa away from him. She must have overheard the argument and the front door slamming as Julia had left. Maybe, too, it was the fact that he hadn't wept at Julia's funeral. As a military man, he'd been trained not to break, not to crumble under pressure or pain. Even when it would have been understandable to do so.

From his vantage point at his study window, Caraway could see much of Deling City's main streets and boulevards, their lights burning red and yellow and white against the darkness of the evening sky. Past the historic Memorial Arch and the open plaza beyond it was the presidential palace, where Josef Deling had so lately begun reviving his late brother's more nefarious practices.

That man had Rinoa somewhere, Caraway was willing to bet. He'd heard about the Dollet massacre, and public reports on Galbadian audio channels stated that there had been no survivors even among the SeeD attackers. But although he led Galbadia's military forces, Caraway knew better than to believe what Josef Deling had been feeding the media these days.

Caraway would never understand why his daughter had wanted to be one of those damned SeeDs, but she had been adamant, as typically stubborn as always, only it had gotten her into a lot more trouble than she had counted on. Maybe now she'd be more willing to listen to reason, although Caraway had his doubts about that. He had known few people in his life who could be as hardheaded as Rinoa.

Even so, he would gladly have listened to one of her tirades, just to know that she was safe.

A soft knock on his study door brought Caraway out of his contemplations, and he turned from the window with a weary sigh. "Yes, who is it?"

"Sorry to disturb you sir," one of the guards apologized from the other side of the closed doors, "but there's a young woman here who insists on seeing you. She says it's important, sir."

Caraway frowned, setting his drink on the wet bar behind his desk. "Who is it? I thought I said no visitors, Marshall. I'm not in the mood."

He expected the guard to reply, but a different voice spoke up instead. A feminine one he thought he actually recognized. "General Caraway, please. I'm Sara Deling, the president's daughter, and I have to talk to you. It's about Rinoa."

"What?" Caraway froze. "What do you mean?"

"I know where she is, sir," the young woman replied. "I've seen her, down under the palace."

Caraway crossed the room, flipped the lock, and practically threw the double doors open. On the other side stood the guard on duty, and next to him was a petite, attractive young blonde in a Garden uniform. Her thick braid of hair lay draped over her right shoulder, and she looked at him with a pair of wide, green eyes that must have seen far more than they ought. Her fingers were clenched into tight fists at her sides, and her fair skin had gone the color of paper.

"You'd better come inside, Ms. Deling," Caraway said, "and tell me everything."

* * *

Sara stepped into the Galbadian general's office, not quite sure how to explain to him what she had seen little more than an hour ago. She was still trying to make sense of it herself even as she sat down in front of his broad cherry wood desk and tried to compose herself. General Caraway closed the doors again before sitting in his own chair opposite her and looking at her expectantly. 

Even in such a position, Caraway still was an imposing presence with his steely gray eyes and impeccable military uniform, his numerous medals hanging above his left breast pocket and the golden epaulettes on his shoulders. Sara thought idly that, aside from the fact that Caraway was clean-shaven and bereft of the finely trimmed goatee her father always wore, the two men didn't look all that different. Her father was a little younger, but that was about it.

"You saw my daughter?" General Caraway prodded, jolting Sara from her thoughts.

She nodded. "Yes, sir. My father and Ghalein, his advisor, they… they have her locked up under the palace. The sewers run underneath the building, you see, and Ghalein's got some hidden cells down there. That's where Rinoa is."

"You're sure about this? How did you find out she was down there?"

"I was listening in on a conversation between Ghalein and my father," Sara explained, "and when Ghalein left, I followed him down to the palace library. There's a secret passage in there that leads down to the sewers. I watched which cell he went to, and when he left, I looked inside for myself."

"Is my daughter alright?" Caraway asked.

Sara hesitated before answering, not quite sure how the Galbadian general would react to what she was about to tell him. "Oh, sir! She… she's in terrible shape… bruises and cuts everywhere, a black eye… And, sir, she… her clothes, they… they'd been torn off. I think… I think she might have… might have been…"

"Raped," he finished tonelessly.

"Yes, sir," Sara confirmed. "I… I tried to talk to her through the bars in the door, but it was like she couldn't hear or see me at all. Sir, they… they plan to execute her tomorrow night, in a public ceremony at the Grand Plaza."

Caraway stood, his fists clenched tight and his eyes narrowing. "I won't lose her, too…"

"Sir?" Sara asked, also rising.

"Nothing," he brushed her inquiry aside. "Ms. Deling, listen very carefully. I'm sending you to Balamb Garden tonight as soon as possible, and you're going to tell Headmaster Kramer and Commander Leonhart everything you've told me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. But how am I going to get out of town without my father and Ghalein knowing about it? They have eyes everywhere, you know. Especially Ghalein, sir."

Caraway dismissed her objection with a sweep of his arm. "I can get you out unseen, it's simply a matter of disguising you. Balamb Garden has been stationed outside of Timber for the past two weeks, as that's about as close as they can get to Dollet without causing friction with Galbadian forces. You'll be taking the next train to Timber, then, and I'll see that Garden personnel will meet you at the station when you arrive."

As much as she had always wanted to visit the famed Balamb Garden someday, Sara had hoped it would be under better circumstances than the ones in which she currently found herself. She hadn't yet earned the rank of SeeD, and her request to transfer to Balamb Garden to train for that post had been pending for the last several months. It still had yet to be approved.

"Understood, sir," Sara nodded her acknowledgement of the general's orders. "But, if I may ask, how are you going to disguise me?"

"One of my men will give you an extra uniform, Ms. Deling, and a helmet to cover your face and hair. Troops ride the trains like anyone else, so nobody should notice you."

Sara raised an eyebrow at the thought of donning one of those smelly blue outfits, but she managed to hide her distaste and said nothing. If it would get her to Timber and Garden without being seen, then she would go through with it. She didn't have much choice if she wanted to help her father and Rinoa.

Although she been on routine training missions while studying at G-Garden, Sara had never participated in a real one before. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck as she realized for the first time exactly what she was about to do. As a Garden student, she had trained for combat and other hazardous situations before, but the reality of it hadn't hit home until just now. Real danger had always before been something far away, more in the realm of possibility than certainty. Now, with adrenaline building in her veins and her fists clenching and unclenching, the only thing Sara knew that was certain was the danger itself.


	22. Chapter 22

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

**22**

* * *

"So, what exactly happened back there, Ellone?" Cloud asked. 

She didn't reply right away, but instead her gaze lingered somewhere on the twinkling stars far above her head. Cloud waited patiently, understanding well enough what it felt like to feel like a stranger in one's own body. Before the experience he and Tifa had shared in the Lifestream, when she had helped him remember who he really was, Cloud had felt much the same way as he thought Ellone must be feeling now. He thought he knew what questions must be floating in her mind about now.

_Who am I?_ What _am I?_

They were the same ones Cloud had asked himself on more than one occasion during his pursuit of Sephiroth all those years ago. He had never quite been able to put the pieces together until Tifa had finally shown him the truth, deep in the Lifestream, but ultimately the truth had set him free. No longer bound by illusions of the past, Cloud had finally been able to move on with his life.

He stood on the deck of the _Highwind_ with Ellone, who grasped the railing with both hands as though she might fall without its support. Looking at her there, however, Cloud thought he could guess the real reason she clung to it. The railing, he supposed, was something solid for her to hold on to, something undeniably real amidst the confusing maelstrom of events that had brought her here.

When she finally replied, Ellone spoke almost in a whisper, her eyes never leaving the stars twinkling far above. "I don't know. It was like… fire in my veins, Cloud. Light, burning inside me… I don't know where it came from. It isn't the power I knew…"

"What do you mean?" Cloud wondered.

"Maybe I should have told you all before, but… all my life, I've been somewhat… unusual. I can send people into the past. In a way, that is…"

Cloud blinked. "You mean time travel?"

"No, not like that," Ellone shook her head. "I… I can put people into a sort of dream, where they see a part of the past through the eyes of someone there. You can't change what happens, you can only watch. But for me, that turned out to be enough."

"What did you do?" Cloud prodded gently.

"A few years ago, I used my power to send my brother and his friends about twenty years into the past. I was trying to stop my adoptive father from coming to save me because, when he did, he had to leave someone he loved behind. She… she died giving birth to my brother. I wanted Uncle Laguna to be with her, even though it would have meant me staying a prisoner in that lab…"

"But you couldn't change what happened," Cloud finished. He thought he understood now. "You've been alone a long time, haven't you?"

Now Ellone did look at him. "Yes, I have. I try not to think about it, but it's there even so. I've been chased after almost my whole life because of my power, and now it's happening all over again. I thought it was over when Squall and the others beat the sorceress, but…"

Cloud laid a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to explain, Elle. I think I understand what you're going through. There was a time, back when my friends and I were going after Sephiroth, that I wasn't sure who I was, or even what was real and what wasn't. But Tifa, she and the others, they helped me find myself, and so I was able to come to terms with what I was and do what I had to do."

"Well, I'm glad you found your peace," Ellone sighed. "I just hope I can find mine someday.."

"You will. I'll help you any way I can, and the others will, too. You don't have to worry about that, Elle. Just leave it to us."

Ellone managed a small smile. "Thanks. How's Tifa doing, by the way?"

"She's resting, down in the conference room," Cloud answered. "Actually, she wants to talk to you. That's why I'm up here. You don't need to keep avoiding her, you know."

"I know, it's just… I can't help feeling what happened back at the house was my fault, Cloud. All my life, people have been hurt because of me. I didn't want it to happen again, least of all to her and the baby. You've been so good to me, and I hate that I repaid you like that."

Cloud took her by both shoulders and turned her so that she was looking right in his eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Elle. We understood the risks in helping you. Banging your head against the wall 'cause you think you messed up doesn't solve anything, believe me."

"You still feel responsible for losing Aeris, don't you?" Ellone pointed out.

At that, Cloud let go of her and nodded. "Yeah. That's the one thing I've never been able to let go of. She was standing right in front of me, Elle. I couldn't do a thing."

"I know. But I don't think she'd want you to keep blaming yourself, any more than you'd want me to blame myself for Tifa nearly dying."

"True," Cloud admitted, a rueful grin spreading across his face. "Tell you what. You try and let go of your guilt and I'll try to do the same for mine. Deal?"

Ellone chuckled and shook his hand. "Deal. Hey, um, Cloud…?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For trying to cheer me up and everything. And for not biting my head off when you found Tifa. I like you guys, and I'm glad you still consider me a friend."

Cloud nodded. "You're welcome. Oh and don't forget to go see Tifa. We won't reach Cosmo Canyon for another few hours, so you two should have plenty of time to talk."

"I won't forget," Ellone assured him. "I've wanted to talk to her, actually. It's just, I was afraid because of… well, you know…"

"I know. But you don't have to be, anymore. She likes you a lot, you know. I don't think Tifa's had very many friends that are girls, at least since Aeris died. Well, there's Yuffie, but they've never really been very close. And I'm guessing you haven't had very many, either. Am I right?"

Elle nodded. "I haven't had many friends at all, guys or girls. At least until I came here. "

"No special someone, either, I take it?" Cloud surmised.

"No, I can't say that I have. Well, not yet, but…"

"But what?" Cloud asked.

Ellone suddenly looked away, running a hand through her hair. "Nothing! It… it's nothing, really. Forget I mentioned it. I've got to go now, Tifa's waiting for me…"

Without another word, Ellone brushed past him and hurried down the stairs to the airship's midsection. Cloud frowned, wondering what had gotten into her all of a sudden. All he had asked was a simple question, hadn't he? Of course, with a woman one never could tell. They were always so emotional, so flighty, so… so… just so downright _odd…_

Shrugging it off as yet another strange female quirk, Cloud sighed and leaned against the railing. Far beneath the airship's hull, the rolling expanse of the Northern Sea undulated with the unceasing rhythms of the tides. Even this far up, Cloud could smell the salty tang of the ocean air. In a way it was soothing, which he supposed was somewhat ironic considering his past bouts of motion sickness, a malady that nevertheless hadn't troubled him in years.

Cloud let his thoughts wander for a while, until a familiar face surfaced in his mind. And with it, a familiar pain. He had agreed to try and let go of that pain, but it had become so much a part of him now that he wasn't sure he could. Aeris had needed him, had been counting on him, and he had let her down. What salve could ever possibly heal that old wound?

He had seen the moment of her death in his dreams so many times it was as though someone had carved it into the very depths of his brain like a macabre piece of film looping endlessly over and over again. As much as Cloud had tried to move on, that moment haunted him endlessly. He had never said anything to Tifa, but he hadn't needed to. She knew him too well not to see it.

Telling her not to worry would have been pointless, though. As well as she knew him, Cloud knew her too. And he had no doubt in his mind that she did worry, and more often than she let on. What would happen, he wondered, when their child came into this world? How could he raise his son or daughter while plagued by guilt and shame he refused to relinquish?

He had to try and let it go, to forgive himself. If not for his sake, then for that of his wife and child

* * *

It was still a few hours before dawn when the _Highwind_ touched down amid the arid sands of the Cosmo desert. Ellone tugged Vincent's cloak tighter around her shoulders as she stepped out of the airship, as the nighttime chill hadn't yet given way to sweltering heat that would replace it later on. It was a different kind of cold than in Icicle, she thought. Dryer, but no less biting for it.

Elle stifled a yawn as the others disembarked. She'd gotten little rest during the flight, but she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until she had learned what Red had to tell her. At that thought, Elle glanced up to the settlement dug into the very rock of the canyon wall. She could just make out a few watch fires burning, although they paled in comparison to the flaming radiance of the Cosmo Candle. Even as far beneath the settlement as she was, Ellone could still easily see the bright orange glow of the great bonfire that Tifa had mentioned to her on the way here.

It really was wonderful, Ellone thought, and she could see why people had come to live here. Even though it was in the middle of the desert, the place had a sort of tranquility and exotic beauty to it, as though Cosmo Canyon was its own little world apart from the rest of the Planet. Far above the dusty cliffs, a sprinkling of tiny stars dotted the heavens like magnificent gemstones, and the moon was a thin sliver just starting to dip beneath the western horizon as the night began to wane.

Ellone followed the others up a long series of natural rock stairs that wound upward to the cliffs where the settlement rested. The observatory at the top of the little town fascinated Ellone, who as a little girl had always loved trying to count the stars at night and finding the different constellations they made. She smiled at the pleasant memories as she continued to climb.

At the top of the stairs, Red was waiting for them, his vivid red fur almost the same shade as the sandstone cliffs which made up his homeland. He looked to Ellone a little like the moombas Uncle Laguna had once befriended, now that she thought about it. Only moombas generally went about on two legs instead of four, and their fur wasn't crisscrossed with old battle scars the way Red's was.

"There you are!" he greeted them. "It is good to see you all again, although it is unfortunate it must be under such circumstances."

Barret, who was standing off to one side, straightened as Elle and the others approached. "Yo! You alright, Tif? Red told me an' the others 'bout what happened."

"I'm fine, Barret," she assured him. "So's the baby."

"Good. Damned near scared the hell out of me, girl, you know that? That fucker ever shows up again, I'll blast it back to whatever hell it came from!"

Tifa smiled at her old friend. "It's good to see you, too."

"Hey, big guy," another voice piped in, "just save a hit or two for me, will ya?"

That ninja girl, Yuffie, flashed a wicked grin and held up her razor-tipped shuriken, its five deadly points sparkling in the mixed white-orange glow of moonlight and firelight. She grinned wickedly as she twirled her weapon. Ellone had no doubt the girl knew how to use it.

Barret grunted. "And let you have all the fun? Not goddamn likely."

"Spoilsport!" Yuffie shot back, sticking her tongue out at him. "I'd get him first, anyway!"

"Alright you two, settle down," Cloud stepped in. "Red, you said you found something, right? That might help us figure out what's going on?"

"Yes, that's right," Red nodded. "A most fascinating discovery, even apart from our present circumstances. If you will come with me to the observatory, I can show you."

Ellone fell into step beside her lupine friend as the small group made its way up through the twisting stairs and caves of the canyon settlement. "Tell me, Red, what exactly did you find? And… do you think it might help me get home?"

"I cannot be certain," he replied. "What I found was a book. A very, very old journal or history of sorts, I believe. I don't know for sure because it was written in the characters and language of the Cetra, who are long extinct. Translating their language was a favorite pastime of my grandfather's and has become one of my own hobbies as well. I only hope what I have learned is useful to you."

"Well, thank you for all your help," Ellone patted his broad shoulder. "Even if it turns out to be nothing, I still appreciate you trying."

"That is very kind of you to say, Ellone. If all goes well, however, then what I have found here will be far from nothing."

A few minutes later, Ellone and the others halted inside one of the upper tunnels next to a ladder that led up through the ceiling and presumably to the observatory on the bluff. She wondered how Red would get up there, what with his paws, but he simply crouched for a moment and then leapt right up the height of the ladder in a single bound. Ellone was still staring in wonderment as the flaming tip of his tail disappeared through the hole in the ceiling.

Ellone followed him up the ladder, the others coming behind, until everyone stood on the cliff where the observatory stood not twenty yards away. A simple wood fence ran along the edge to prevent anyone from accidentally falling, and beyond that was a view of the canyon that stole Ellone's breath with its picturesque beauty and grand scale. The desert stretched for miles as far as she could see, and even in the predawn gloom, it was a marvelous sight.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Tifa smiled softly.

Elle nodded. "I can see why Red loves this place so much. It's beautiful here, and so peaceful…"

"Soothing to the soul," Vincent whispered, joining her. "At least, for most who come here."

"Not for you?" Ellone asked.

"A little, perhaps," he admitted, "but… not entirely…"

Ellone, whose own disquiet had lessened but not gone entirely, thought she understood. She turned away from that panoramic view with a sigh and followed the others into the observatory, which as Ellone saw also served as Red's home. A simple table sat in the main room, with four chairs around it, and a door off to the side led to what she guessed was the actual machinery of the structure. A small bedroom was tucked in one corner, and a sofa lay against one wall.

Upon the table lay an open book, its pages yellowed with extreme age. The leather binding might once have been blue, but it had faded so much with so many years that now Ellone couldn't quite tell what shade it was. On the pages were written lines of strange characters, letters and symbols she had never seen before, yet somehow they were oddly familiar. It was as though she had seen them, or writings like them, long ago or in someplace far away.

"I did not find this tome until very recently," Red explained, "as it was not with the other records and histories that the elders and I keep here. I went through the records and documents that I knew of, not really certain what I was looking for but knowing I would recognize it when I discovered it."

Cloud folded his arms in thought. "But nothing showed itself. So where did you find this book? It looks a lot older than the ones I've seen in the canyon libraries."

"Indeed it is, Cloud. The elders and I have done some testing and come to the conclusion that it cannot be less than four or five thousand years old. Yet the characters and the language they were written in are clearly Cetra in origin. I have studied their writings long enough to recognize them when I see them."

"That's even older than Jenova!" Tifa exclaimed. "Are you saying the Ancients were around for that long?"

Red nodded. "Yes, it would appear so. Humans have been dwelling on the Planet for thousands of years, but they never became dominant until after the Cetra died out. So it is not unlikely that the Cetra could have existed for so long a time, either."

"I do not see what this has to do with Ellone," Vincent murmured.

"Let me continue, please, and I think you will. As I was saying, I had come to a dead end in my search through the canyon libraries. That is, until I remembered Bugenhagen once mentioning to me an old safe room of his in which he had kept the very oldest records and writings he had discovered. It was kept secret, known only to him and to me, as the location of the safe room was at the time in a very dangerous place. We did not want anyone to be hurt were they to go looking for it."

"Where was it?" Cloud asked.

Red paused before answering, and when he did speak, Ellone felt as though the air had grown suddenly heavier. "The safe room is a secret chamber hidden within the cave of the Gi."

"You went into that spooky ol' place all by yourself?" Yuffie exclaimed. "I could never stand all those ghosts n' stuff, Red!"

"It is abandoned now," he assured her. "When we defeated the spirit of the Gi chieftain, he and his tribe were at last able to return to the Lifestream, and they haunt the cave no longer. I still keep it locked, however, just to be safe."

"Good idea," Cid grunted.

"As Vincent was saying, though," Tifa prodded, "what does all this have to do with Ellone?"

Red padded to one side of the table, and beckoned Elle closer. "If you would, Ellone, please turn the page, but be careful, they are very brittle."

She did so, moving the faded parchment with as much care as she could, and wondered what she was supposed to be seeing in here. When she saw what was on the next page, however, she froze, her eyes widening. Before her was an illustration depicting a figure of shadow and malice she knew all too well. Although it was only a drawing, Ellone shivered nevertheless.

What she saw on that page was the hunter, the cloaked fiend of her nightmares.

"How…?" was all she could manage.

"I can't be certain, but I believe that the Cetra knew of this creature," Red explained. "They referred to it as a ghorük, or "nightstalker" in our language. According to the book, it is an amalgamation of enslaved souls brought to unholy life as a demonic assassin."

"But an assassin for who?" Cloud wondered.

Red went on. "Very early in their history, at least several thousand years before Jenova wiped them out, the Cetra fought a long and terrible war against a being they believed was the embodiment of darkness itself. It is all written in this journal, and I'm still in the process of translating it. But I've been able to figure out at least that much, and a bit more."

"But… what does that have to do with me?" Ellone asked. It still didn't make any sense to her.

"The Cetra were able to defeat this entity, who in the journal here is known as Maloth, but at a price. If I have read this correctly, our Planet was not always as it is now. We have always believed that it has ever been this way, and understandably so. But the records here suggest differently."

Tifa frowned. "What do you mean?"

"According to the journal, when the Cetra cast out Maloth and his demonkin, the power expended was so great that it tore the Planet asunder. Not physically, but it was split into multiple realities. Or worlds, if you will. In other words, Ellone, I believe that your world and ours have a common origin. They have evolved differently, and even the seas and lands are different, but at one time very far in the past, they were one. And it seems that, somehow, you were able to cross the boundary between them."

"Wait a sec, Red," Barret growled. "How could them damned Ancients or whatever do somethin' like that? Aeris never had no power like that, not that we ever saw."

Red nodded. "I understand your confusion, as I felt it myself upon first discovering what they had done. But the writings go on to say that the act of sealing their enemies away and the rending of the Planet drained almost all of the Cetra's former power. Perhaps that is why they were unable to withstand Jenova's plague millennia later."

"They made a sacrifice," Ellone murmured. "The only way to save the Planet was to destroy it as it was, and their own power along with it. Where do I come into this, though?"

"I'm not sure, but it would seem that whatever binding the Cetra placed upon Maloth is weakening, and the boundaries between worlds along with them. It is my belief that they are linked, somehow, although I can't be certain. But the journal tells of a child, born of both flesh and magic, sent to the future by the Cetra before their power had waned entirely. It says here that, 'when the Seal fails and the Shadow comes again, she will banish it with the Light of her people, and Darkness will be no more.'"

Ellone sank into a chair, disbelief etched on her face. "That's impossible! I… I was born in Winhill, in southern Galbadia! My parents, they were shot when I was two, right in front of me! I can't be what… what you're saying I am, Red! I just can't!"

"Yes, I believe that is where you were born," Red told her gently. "When the Cetra sent the child into the future, she was still in her mother's womb. Her parents went with her, knowing that the process of doing so would strip them of their power as Cetra."

"But if that's true, how… how come I still have mine?" she asked.

"I think that, somehow, because you had not yet been born, being inside your mother's womb shielded you from the effects of the time displacement your parents experienced. But it seems that, since your power has only begun to awaken recently, it is safe to assume that it lay dormant until it was needed."

Reaching out a trembling hand, Ellone gently slid the aged book over to her, still trying to understand what she had just learned. She didn't want this. Why me? Haven't I done enough? Once again she was at the center of some dark struggle, at the heart of a mystery she wanted no part of. As much as she wanted to deny it, though, she knew that what this history claimed was true. She knew it in her blood, in that strange part of her that recognized the letters and words of a dead language she had never once seen before coming to this place. As much as she hated it, she knew it was the truth.

Ellone turned a page, and then another, until she came to a new drawing. This one depicted two orbs, one light and one dark. The light orb was tiny, the dark a bloated sphere. She knew them as she knew the words and the language, though she could not fathom their meaning. Yet even as she gazed at the ancient depiction of the two spheres, names came to her.

_"A'marieth…_ and _Etiru,_" she whispered.

"We know them here as the White Materia and the Black Materia," Red added. "It's written in the journal that the Cetra created the White Materia long before modern historians had previously thought, and that the Cetra used it when they sealed their Enemy away."

"And the Black Materia?" Cloud asked.

It was Ellone who answered. "There was… a traitor, a Cetra who embraced the Shadow rather than the Light. He… he knew how _A'marieth_ had been formed, and he corrupted the process to create _Etiru._"

"How do you know that, Elle?" Tifa blinked. "I'm not sure I understand…"

"Grandpa had a theory," Red interjected, "which I believe has some merit. He believed that the Cetra had something like a group mind, a racial consciousness. The memories of one were the memories of all, and the reverse was also true. One of their powers, as we know, is not only to communicate with the Planet, but also with each other, even over time and great distances."

Ellone had to admit, Red's explanation made some sense to her. And in a way, it made her feel a little better, understanding at least a bit where this strange knowledge was coming from. But… what about that voice? The kind, feminine whisper that had spoken to her in the lake? Ellone hadn't heard from it since that night. Who was it? It must have been a Cetra, for her to have recognized it, but who?

Suddenly the observatory was gone, and Ellone saw before her once again the crystal city, empty save for the figures on the central altar. This time, however, the vision was not from Aeris' point of view. Ellone saw it as a silent, invisible observer off to the side. She saw the blade slide through the girl's chest, saw her body sink into Cloud's unbelieving arms. But just before that, Ellone caught the bright, shimmering sparkle of light that flew from Aeris's hair and tumbled into the waters beneath the altar.

_That_ was what she had been meant to see. At last, Ellone was beginning to understand.

The vision vanished, to be replaced by her friends and the observatory interior once more. Tifa was gazing worriedly at her. "What's wrong, Elle? It looked like you blanked out there for a moment."

"I know what I have to do," she replied, rising from the chair. "I know why I was brought here, Tifa. It's the White Materia. That's why I was shown Aeris' death. It wasn't her that I needed to see, it was _A'marieth._ I was sent here to find it."

"But it's lying under about a hundred feet of water at least," Cloud argued, "and there's no telling exactly where it might be down there."

Ellone shook her head, unwilling to be deterred now that she had a purpose here. "I know, Cloud, I saw it happen. But I can get it back."

"You're sure?" he asked.

"It's what I was brought here to do," she nodded. "and it's the only way I can get home."

"Then we're heading to the Forgotten Capital first thing tomorrow morning. I'm not sure how we'll be able to get to the actual city, though, since there's some sort of barrier that blocks the entrance."

Ellone wasn't at all surprised to learn that she knew how to bypass it. "Leave that to me. Only… only a Cetra can remove it, after all, and I guess that's what I am."

"We must assume that the nightstalker knows of this as well," Vincent added. "It will attempt to stop you from reaching the city."

"Well, I'll have you there to protect me, won't I?" Ellone smiled.

Vincent nodded. "Of course."

"That creep's got a date with my shuriken," Yuffie snarled, "so he'd _better_ show up!"

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Cloud sighed. "Looks like we're all going then. Except for you, Tifa. I don't want you anywhere near that place."

Tifa stared daggers at him. "Excuse _me?_ I'm not going to stay here while the rest of you go on! I'm going to at least ride on the airship with the rest of you! I'll stay aboard while you guys go into the city, but I am _not_ going to be cooped up here by myself!"

"Tif, I nearly lost you and the baby back home! I'm not going to let it happen again!"

"I'm coming with you, Cloud," she replied, hands on her hips. "Get used to it."

He threw up his arms in defeat. "Fine. But you're staying on the _Highwind,_ got it? It's too dangerous for you to come into the city with us, in your condition."

"I can live with that," Tifa smiled sweetly.

"Not sure I'll be able to land the ship as close to the city as usual," Cid muttered. "Goddamn weather's been really freaky in that area lately. Might even have to leave it outside Bone Village and go through that weird ass forest again…"

Cloud frowned. "Looks like we're going to have ourselves a little journey, then. We should be alright, though. We did enough traveling on foot back when we were chasing after Sephiroth."

"Hey, it'll be just like old times!" Yuffie grinned.

"Our materia won't be of much use, though," Tifa said. "I'm sure everyone's noticed it by now, but they haven't been responding at all, not for the past few weeks at least."

Barret shrugged. "We'll jes' have to do without it, then, Tif. Not like we haven't roughed it before. Still, I was hopin' we wouldn't hafta do stuff like this again, you know? We already saved the world once, you'd think that'd be the end of it. Uh, no offense or nothin', Ellone."

"It's alright," Elle reassured him. "I feel the same way."

As much as she hated what she was and what had come of it, Ellone found it a little easier to deal with than her past struggles. Perhaps it was because, for the first time, she wasn't helpless, that there was something she could actually do to fight the forces pursuing her. But mostly, she realized, it was that she wasn't alone anymore. She didn't have to do this by herself. Even so, a sliver of dread worked its way down her spine like an icy finger as she realized that, in the face of her enemy, it might not be enough.


	23. Chapter 23

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_Book 1: The Approaching Storm_

**23**

* * *

Zell sighed and folded his arms. The train must have been at least twenty minutes overdue by now. Bad enough he had to be stuck out here by himself so late at night, waiting for some super important person that he'd been told General Caraway was sending to Garden on urgent business. It was probably some officer type, though Zell wasn't sure. Squall and Cid had told him that his contact would be disguised as a Galbadian soldier, but they hadn't mentioned the individual's identity. 

_Must be some military bigwig in trouble with the prez or something,_ Zell mused. Not even Squall and Cid had been told why the matter was so urgent, only that it was of top priority. Zell could guess the reason for the scant information. He knew he wasn't the brightest of folks, but even he had been able to put the pieces together by now and understood that if Matron's fears of a traitor in Garden were true, then there was no telling where the leak might be. And if this strange visitor was as important as General Caraway's brief encoded communiqué via HD cable had implied, then it was imperative to put as little information in the open as possible until the traitor was found and detained.

Still, Zell found himself wondering just who tonight's Special Mystery Guest would turn out to be. He supposed it was as good a way as any to pass the time. There weren't a lot of people at the station at this hour, just a few folks milling about here and there waiting for the train to show up. Zell leaned against the wall near the little drawbridge that arched over the tracks. No kids were playing on it at the moment, though during the day they often did.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, shattering the gloomy stillness with its shrill cry, and Zell straightened as the train finally surged into the station in a hiss of hydraulics. A small crowd of people gathered expectantly around the passenger cars, the murmur of conversation starting to bubble in the air as men and women waited for their friends and loved ones to arrive.

Milling carefully through the loose congregation, Zell recalled the instructions he'd been given as to how to recognize his contact. General Caraway's instructions had said that the person would be masquerading as a Galbadian foot soldier. The trouble was that, like most trains going into or out of Galbadian territory these days, this vehicle carried a small detachment of such troops. That had probably been part of Caraway's plan to begin with, the better to conceal this mysterious visitor.

There was one other thing that Caraway had mentioned, now that Zell thought about it, although he had no idea what it meant. The general's instructions had specified that SeeD would know the right soldier because of his weapons. Zell could only guess that the trooper he was looking for was armed with something other than the typical broadswords the soldiers carried. He'd been given a password phrase to use for added security so the contact would know that Zell was from SeeD.

Zell searched around as unobtrusively as he could, letting his eyes dart about the platform as the passengers finally disembarked. He saw a few blue Galbadian uniforms here and there, but none of them were the person he was looking for. The swords hanging at their sides told him that. Was his contact in a car farther down? It was the right train, Zell was certain. Caraway's instructions had specified exactly which one he was to wait for and when.

He started to make his way farther down the platform towards the cars at the back of the train, but before he had taken more than a few steps, a flash of blue caught his eye. Zell turned to see another of the soldiers stepping down from the train. Unlike the others, though, this one wore on his belt a pair of elegant yet deadly sai daggers as opposed to the usual broadsword.

That must be him, Zell figured. He made his way through the slowly dispersing crowd toward the unusual soldier. The man hadn't seen him yet, though, but from the way his helmeted gaze subtlety panned the area, it was obvious at least to Zell that he was searching for something. Or perhaps for someone. Zell couldn't see anything of what he looked like, since those domed metal helmets they always wore completely enclosed the wearer's face above the mouth.

There was also something strange about the way the soldier walked, and although Zell thought he knew what it might be, it hovered just out of his mental grasp. The guy also didn't seem to have the heavier build that most other troops did. Zell guessed that the Galbadian military favored muscle over mental capacity, which would certainly explain why the troops were always so dim-witted and incompetent.

Zell edged closer to the unusual soldier, who at the moment was motioning for others on the train to hurry up and get off. Other troops were doing the same, so Zell figured that his contact was biding time and trying not to be noticed. Zell pretended to look as though waiting for one of the arriving passengers, all while making his way ever closer to the soldier. One never knew who might be watching, and with a possible traitor in Garden, Zell wasn't going to take any chances.

His contact glanced for the first time in his direction, and Zell realized that the soldier must be awfully young, no more than a kid, really. His jaw was too clean, too smooth to belong to an older man no matter how good a shave he may have had. What was Caraway thinking, sending some kid here on top priority business? Had the Galbadian general lost his mind?

Zell muttered to himself, wondering how he'd wound up getting picked for this assignment. Why not Quistis or Selphie, or even Irvine? They had all had their own duties to attend to, of course, so it had fallen to Zell to pick up their mysterious visitor. He made a mental note to himself to have a word with Squall about that later on, after he'd gotten back to Garden.

At last, he was at the soldier's side, pretending to peer into the train door as though expecting somebody. No sooner had he begun his facade when something yanked him hard to the right, and he found himself staring into the helmeted face of his contact. What was that code phrase again? It sounded really archaic, like it was in some real old language or something.

"Vividarium et intervigilium et viator," Zell whispered.

The soldier tilted his head ever so slightly, his reply so soft that Zell barely even heard it. "In the garden sleeps a messenger."

"Yo, you mind letting me go now?" Zell asked. "And what's goin' on?"

"Not yet, we're probably being watched. Just follow along for now, I'll explain later."

"Wha—?" Zell began, but was abruptly cut off as the soldier suddenly yanked him away from the train, shouting something about him looking suspicious, and marched him away from the platform. Zell nearly jumped as he felt the poke of a blade against his back. What the hell…?

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," the soldier whispered. "Just pretend like I'm taking you for questioning. We'll ditch the act when we're out of sight."

Zell caught himself as he was about to nod, and instead he tried to manufacture an angry and disgruntled demeanor to make his role as a captive more believable. It wasn't nearly as hard as he thought, actually, since all he needed to do was to pretend that it was Seifer who was prodding him along, that damnable smirk plastered on his face as he poked his gunblade tauntingly into Zell's back.

Guided along by the subtle and not quite painless touch of his companion's weapon, Zell made his way from the platform and started down the dimly lit street. A few passersby stared curiously at the duo, but none made any move or even showed much interest. Zell supposed they must be used to seeing Galbadian troops dragging people away, although he wondered how many of those observers might actually be part of some Timber resistance group or other. The factions were still going strong, so far as he knew, since Galbadia had never fully withdrawn from the region after the war.

A subtle poke from his companion's weapon nudged Zell to the left, and he ducked into a nearby alley, the soldier right behind him. They went a few hundred feet down the damp concrete until the entrance was practically out of sight in the gloom. Once again, Zell wondered just who his companion was that he would go to so much trouble to avoid being seen by unfriendly eyes.

At last, the soldier pulled his weapon away from Zell's back and tucked it back in his belt, and while he had known that his mysterious contact wouldn't hurt him, Zell still let out a small sigh of relief. He sat down against the alley wall, scrunching his nose at the unpleasant mixture of odors hanging in the air. Alcohol, garbage, and worse. He could just make out the shape of a drunk lying asleep near the far end of the alley, and a mangy tom cat nosed its way through a mound of scattered trash in hopes of finding a meal.

The odd soldier sank down next to him, and Zell thought he heard him let out a sigh of his own. "I never thought it would feel so good to sit down."

"What do you mean?" Zell asked.

"On the train, I had to act like I was one of the guards, and that meant constantly marching up and down the passenger cars the whole time. My feet are killing me…"

"Sorry to hear that, man. You alright?"

The soldier nodded. "I'll be fine, I just need to get this stupid helmet off. I don't know how real troops can possibly see in these things."

Taking hold of the domed metal headpiece in both hands, the young trooper carefully lifted it off, and a tumble of golden hair shone in the dimness. For the first time, Zell could see his companion face to face, and rational thought escaped him as his jaw sagged down to his collarbone.

It was a girl. A _girl!_

She couldn't been any older than Zell, her emerald eyes watching his dumbfounded reaction with puzzled curiosity as she shook out her lustrous mane of blond hair and deftly began twisting it into a makeshift braid with her gloved hands. Her lips were little more than a narrow crease of pale red in the dimness, and a few stray freckles dotted her fair skin across her cheeks and jaw.

Her uniform tunic had a bulkiness to it that Zell hadn't noticed earlier, and the standard issue Galbadian armor she wore over it was a few sizes too big, now that he actually was taking the time to really look at her. No wonder he hadn't seen any of her feminine curves, concealed as they were beneath the armor. She hadn't been able to hide the gracefulness of her female stride, though, as Zell realized why he had found her movement so unusual before.

Even glimpsed in the gloom and stuffed as she was in the too-big soldier's uniform, this girl had to have been the most beautiful thing Zell had ever seen.

"Hey, SeeD, is something wrong?" she asked.

Zell blinked and glanced away, stammering and wondering just how big of an idiot he looked like. "Uh, nothing, I… I'm fine, sorry. Just wasn't, er, expecting a, um… a girl, that's all."

"It's alright," she shrugged. "General Caraway never mentioned it, I guess."

"Nope, didn't say hardly anything about ya. Um… my name's Zell, by the way. Zell Dincht." He offered her his right hand.

She took it, and Zell's heart raced at the feel of her fingers in his. "Sara Deling. It's nice to meet you, Zell, although I wish the circumstances were different."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But anyway, good to meet ya. Hey, um…"

"What is it?" Sara asked.

Zell let go of her hand and raked a hand through his spike of blond hair. "You said your last name was Deling, right? As in Vinzer and Josef Deling, presidents of Galbadia?"

She nodded. "That's right. Josef Deling is my father, and Vinzer was his older brother. My uncle. But Zell, I'm not like them. At least, my uncle. He was so… so horrible. But my father…"

"What about him?"

"I should save it for the briefing," she shook her head, "but basically, he… he's not been himself lately. He's a good man, really, but… I'm afraid someone's using him."

Zell scratched his head in thought. "That sucks… So you came to us for help. But why'd you have to pretend you were a guy?"

"Women aren't allowed to serve in the Galbadian military," Sara explained. "It was one of my uncle's laws, actually, but my father brought it back."

"I get it, I think. We'll find out what's goin' on over there, but we've got our own problems too. Squall's got enough on his mind already."

Sara took his arm suddenly, her green eyes boring into his blue ones. "I also came here because I know where Rinoa is. I'm sure the commander would want to know that."

Zell froze. "Yo, you serious? Is she alright? What's goin' on?"

"We should get going, Zell. It's dangerous to talk out here in the open like this," Sara stood and pulled him up with her. "I've seen a lot—too much, probably—and I'm afraid it isn't good."

* * *

Listening to the Galbadian girl's report word by hellish word, Squall frowned and wished he were in the training center so he could hit something. Preferably that goddamn pasty-faced bastard that had kidnapped and violated Rinoa. At least she was alive, however. Squall reflected bitterly that same could no longer be officially said of sister, as of this morning.

Despite Dr. Kadowaki's grim assessment, Squall knew deep in his gut that Ellone was alive somewhere. So was Rinoa, and he would be damned if he wasn't going to find and save them both and end this perpetual nightmare that his life had become. The bed was always so empty without his wife lying next to him at night, and guilt continually gnawed at him like some devilish rodent eating away at his insides.

At least now, he could end it.

"Sarah, you're sure about this?" he asked.

The blond cadet nodded. "Without a doubt, sir. It was Rinoa."

"Then there's only one thing to do," he replied, his gaze moving past her to linger over the gathered faces of his friends standing here with him on the Garden's bridge. "We're going to get her back. Tonight."

"Damn right we will!" Zell pumped his fist.

Selphie bounced up and down, her green eyes bright. "Just tell me where to fly the ship, Squall! The Raggy's gonna make a blast over there yet!"

"So when are we leaving?" Irvine drawled, tipping back his old cowboy hat.

Quistis' steady nod was all the confirmation Squall needed from her. At least he still had a few friends left. Nida had hardly said a word to him since the Dollet massacre, not that Squall could blame him. And he'd seen more than a few cold glances pass his way when their owners had thought he couldn't see. The tension hung in the air so thickly that Squall thought he could have cut it had he wanted to.

He'd broken perhaps the most sacred rule of military service while in Dollet on that terrible day. Despite the outside circumstances, the threat of unknown creatures escaping and killing innocent civilians, he had left his own people behind. That they had already been dead didn't matter. No one was to be abandoned on a field of battle, yet that was exactly what Squall had done.

And even worse, he had abandoned Rinoa. At least, that was how he saw it. No matter that she hadn't been there in the first place. The fact that he hadn't stayed to determine where she had been taken was what haunted his sleep and his waking hours. He'd had no choice but to destroy the tower and any leads it might have contained, but that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Don't fret over the choice you made in Dollet, Squall," Edea's soft voice pierced his thoughts with its soothing whisper. "nor the disquiet that it has caused within Garden. It will pass, in time."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"It is the strain of grief, nothing more. We lost many good people, and had not the chance to see them off as we might have liked. In any event, we must look to the present and not dwell further on the past. There is something about this mission, however, which troubles me…"

Squall frowned. "What is it, Matron?"

"I cannot say, only that I feel things are not as they seem. Be careful in Galbadia, Squall. Something dark lurks there, hiding in the shadows. I do not know what it intends, but its will is both powerful and cunning. I wish I could tell you more, but that is all I know."

"Then that'll have to be enough," Squall grimaced.

He turned as the elevator hissed open, depositing Cid, Seifer, and Fujin on the bridge. Squall groaned inwardly, knowing what the headmaster was going to say and knowing he couldn't refuse. At least Seifer wouldn't like it any more than Squall did.

"Squall, there is one other thing before you leave. Seifer and Fujin are to accompany you on this mission, both to aid you in rescuing Rinoa and to ascertain the current situation in Galbadia."

Zell took a step forward. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! We're supposed to work with this jerk again? I had enough of him back in Dollet!"

"Relax, blondie," Seifer smirked, "I hate it as much as you do. Just stay out of my way."

"That's enough, both of you," Cid chided. "Now I expect you all to work together on this. Remember that your goal is twofold: rescuing Rinoa as well as obtaining any information on what's going on over there. With the Dollet tower down, our communications and tracking systems won't help. So you're all we've got now. Don't spend too much time, there, though."

"I'm going too, sir," Sarah insisted. Squall had to admit she had some guts, facing down her superior officers like that. "I can't just stay here when my father needs me. Please, you've got to let me go with you. I have to help him come back to himself."

Squall wasn't so sure it was such a good idea. After all, their team was already sizeable enough, and their mission depended as much on stealth as on firepower. She was a skilled fighter, he didn't doubt, but neither did he see the need for her to accompany them. He was about to point that out when Zell suddenly spoke up, edging a little closer to the petite Galbadian girl.

"Hey, uh, listen to her, guys. I mean, she's got as much reason to go as any of us, doesn't she? If it was my Pa that was in trouble, I'd want to go too instead of stewing here on the sidelines. Well, uh, you know what I mean. Headmaster Cid, I'll keep an eye on her if you let her come, yo?"

Cid pursed his lip in thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Sarah, you assist the others in any way you can and follow their orders, understood?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded, saluting sharply.

"Good luck to all of you," the headmaster bade them, "and come back safe. We can't afford any more losses, not now of all times."

Squall gazed around at his team, willing it to be enough. They were sure to be outnumbered, if it came to a fight, but if all went well they'd be in and out with minimal conflict with Galbadian troops. Squall doubted it would go so smoothly, however. In fact, he was counting on it, hoping for the chance to cut down that pasty-faced son of a bitch that had taken Rinoa. Though he hadn't ever felt much satisfaction before in killing someone, Squall would make an exception in this bastard's case.

After all, there was a first time for everything.


	24. Chapter 24, Part 1 of 2

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION**   
_BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_   
Chapter 24, Part 1 of 2

Pulling Vincent's black cloak a little tighter around her, Ellone stepped out onto the Highwind's deck as the ship descended toward a large patch of forest sprawled out in a wide valley between the arms of the mountains. Although it wasn't yet noon, the sky was still shrouded in gloom, thick layers of gray storm clouds blocking out the sun. Farther north, closer to her destination, the sullen grayness of the heavens darkened to an ominous black.

If her enemy meant to strike again, it wouldn't wait for nightfall.

Somewhere in that roiling blackness lay the forgotten capital of her people. Once, long ago, it had been a living, thriving settlement of deceptive simplicity. Most travelers had only known of the upper city, the Shell Village, as they had sometimes called it. Yet while the Cetra had indeed dwelt there, it had had been the hidden, secret lower city—a dazzling array of sparkling crystal and polished marble crafted and shaped with exquisite detail—that had been the true home of her people.

Her people. Ellone shivered, and not from the cold northern breeze whipping across her cheeks and through her brown hair. Could it really be true? Was she really a… a Cetra? As much as she wanted otherwise, Ellone couldn't deny the truth of her unusual heritage. Was it possible that the power she'd been hunted for all her life was but an unexpected offshoot of what she really possessed?

Ellone supposed that was probably true, and as she gazed past the snowcapped peaks rising up from the blanket of evergreens rolling out beneath the airship, she let the unspoken memories of her people fill her mind. They passed before she could identify them or see what they were, but their simple presence helped ease her troubled thoughts and made more bearable the strange sensation growing inside her with each mile the Highwind traveled further north. It was a feeling both reassuring and at the same time somehow disquieting, although she could not quite say why.

She was coming home.

After about half an hour of circling the thick forest for someplace to land, the Highwind finally touched down in a broad clearing just a few miles south of the small archeological settlement Cloud and the others had called Bone Village. Ellone took in the scents of damp leaves and old moss from the gnarled oaks and hickories surrounding the clearing where the airship had landed. The sounds and smells of the natural world had always managed to soothe her, and she realized now that perhaps it came as much from her Cetra heritage as from her own tastes. Her people had embraced nature, after all.

There was a groaning of metal hinges as the aft door swung open behind her, and Ellone turned to see the others making their way out onto the deck. Her eyes first went to Vincent, the oddly reassuring presence of his dark form lean and gray in the gloomy afternoon light save for the band of crimson fabric bisecting his forehead and holding back his dark hair. Even that, though, seemed more the dark maroon color of drying blood rather than its actual brighter red hue.

Cloud moved over by the railing next to her, peering thoughtfully out over the grim landscape. "Do you sense anything, Ellone?"

"I can't tell if it's out there, if that's what you're asking," she murmured, not needing to explain what _it_ was. "but I don't like that storm, either. It feels… unnatural, somehow…"

"Looks like shit," Cid growled, a cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"You sure you can't get any closer?" Cloud grimaced.

Cid snorted. "No fuckin' way, Spike. That goddamn storm up there'd just tear us the fuck apart before we'd have even gotten over the mountains, much less anywhere near them ruins."

"So how we s'posed ta get to the city, then?" Barret rumbled. "If that storm's as bad as it looks, walkin' won't be much better than flyin' there."

The problem was an obvious one, now that Ellone thought about it, but she realized without much surprise that she knew what had to be done. The voiceless whisper in the back of her mind, that part of her that had begun to awaken ever since coming to this world, showed her the resolution of this dilemma. Once again she would have to make use of her power, but she had little choice if she wanted to reach the ruins of her people's capital and the shimmering white orb hidden within its watery depths.

"I can get us through," Ellone offered.

"Your power?" Cloud guessed.

She nodded. "I can't really put it into words, it's just something I know. Instinct, maybe. I'm not really sure. I wish I could explain it better."

Red padded up to her then, his lupine features oddly calming. "We understand, Ellone. Such power is often uncertain by its very nature. Do not be troubled."

"Thank you," she managed a small smile. "I'll do what I can."

Her companions began to descend to the grassy clearing one by one down a sturdy rope ladder, Cid first and the others following. Tifa remained on the deck, her gaze lingering on her departing friends as they clambered one by one off the airship.

"I wish I could go with you guys," she sighed.

Cloud nodded. "I know, Tif. So do I. Keep an eye on things 'till we get back."

He brushed his lips against her cheek, then descended the ladder after the others, leaving Ellone by herself with only Tifa and Vincent for company. She had figured that Vincent would come last, wary as ever, and took comfort in his ceaseless vigilance. There was something she had to do first, though, before she left the ship and embarked on the last stage of her journey.

"Thanks for all you've done for me," Ellone wrapped her arms around Tifa in a gentle embrace, careful of her friend's swollen belly. "I won't forget it."

Tifa smiled and let her go. "Neither will I, Elle. I hope you find your way home. Who knows, we might even get to see each other again before this is all over."

"Hopefully under better circumstances," Ellone bantered. "Take care of that baby, you hear?"

"Oh, I will," Tifa gently ran her hands across her distended abdomen. "I will."

It felt so strange, saying goodbye. As she started climbing down the ladder, Ellone realized that in the three weeks or so that she'd been here, she'd somehow gotten used to this world. It would be odd, going back home, and she wondered what she'd tell Squall and Uncle Laguna and the others about where she'd been. She wondered if she'd ever see her friends here again.

Would she ever see Vincent again?

Ellone halted in midstep. She hadn't realized just how much she'd come to rely on his stoic, reassuring presence these past weeks. What would she do without him? As her fingers tightened on the smooth wooden rung of the rope ladder, Ellone glanced back up toward the ship, where Vincent was descending just a few yards above her.

Suddenly she didn't want to go on. She didn't want to leave him.

But, she reminded herself with a bitter sigh, she had no choice. As she resumed her descent, Ellone understood that once again she would have to put her own desires and hopes aside for the sake of others. It wasn't anything new, really. She'd been doing it most of her adult life. What she wanted, her hopes and dreams, would once again have to wait.

Touching down in the ankle-deep grass of the clearing, Ellone brushed a bit of dust off her jeans and the pale lavender blouse she wore. Tifa's care and the passage of time had both done their job, and Ellone was feeling now almost as good as she had before her fateful ride that night almost a month ago. All her bandages were gone, and though her ribs, wrist, and ankle still ached a little if she moved them in certain ways, it was more than bearable now. Another few weeks and even that would be gone.

She had pulled her dark brown hair into a short little ponytail this morning, a style she'd worn before on occasion, although not very often. But for such a dangerous and uncertain journey as she was about to undertake, she preferred to keep her hair out of her face so as not to obstruct her sight. The last thing she wanted was for her bangs to start sliding down in front of her eyes again.

Almost immediately, Ellone sensed the odd hush that had come over the woodlands. Few birds chirped in the treetops, and she could hear no scurrying rodents in the underbrush. The dank smell of rain hung in the air, though none had yet fallen from the leaden, overcast skies. Thunder rumbled in the distance like huge boulders tumbling down a mountainside.

Vincent joined her a moment later, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees and the dark clouds further north beyond the mountains. "The wood is silent, Cloud. More comes than just the storm."

"Then let's get moving," Cloud agreed. "I want to get to Bone Village before midafternoon. Reeve and Reno are meeting us there, and it's as good a place as any to stock up on supplies."

Yuffie rolled her dark, almond eyes. "Gawd! You mean we gotta work with that red-headed creep?"

For once, Barret seemed to agree with her, his bearded face drawing into a scowl. "You sure this is a good idea, Cloud? I don't trust him, not one goddamn bit."

"Neither do I," Cloud sighed, "but something tells me we're going to need every bit of help we can find before this is over."

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Cid muttered, taking a pull on his cigarette.

Ellone had only a vague idea who this Reno person was, having remembered only a little of her friends' tales, but what she thought she knew, she didn't like all that much. In any case, there was little she could do about it, so she just sighed inwardly and headed into the woods after the others.

About two hours later, Ellone looked with her companions on the tiny settlement known as Bone Village. The journey here had been largely uneventful save for a few sudden peals of thunder that had rolled out overhead from the storm to the north. She had jumped in spite of herself, having grown accustomed to the strange quiet lingering in the forest.

Bone Village had been aptly named, she saw. Men and women in dusty clothes knelt here and there in the rocky ground digging away, the rhythmic clanging of their pickaxes and hammers almost jarring after the utter stillness of the woods Ellone and the others had just emerged from. Vast calcified skeletons of what must have been strange and wondrous creatures lay unearthed after who knew how many centuries of rest deep within the ground, and the remains of a crashed airplane lay almost in the middle of the area.

More villagers worked up on a nearby ridge just above the main settlement, and farther north the forest closed in again, the not quite so distant mountains rising up behind the treetops. Tents and makeshift shacks stood here and there around the little town, both on the main grounds and up on the ridge as well, where rope ladders hung over the side to allow people to go up or down as needed.

From one of the larger tents approached a man that with his dark hair and finely trimmed goatee, Ellone found vaguely familiar. At first she couldn't place him, but then as he came closer to her and the others, she realized that it was Reeve. Instead of his typical fine business suit, however, he wore dark jeans and a navy blue vest over a plain white buttoned shirt with the sleeves folded up to the elbows.

"Ellone, right?" he asked as he came near. "I'm Jonathan Reeve. We met once before, but I wasn't sure if you remembered. Glad to see you on your feet again."

She took his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Mr. Reeve. I appreciate your concern."

He smiled. "Just call me Reeve. I get enough formality back in Junon, and to be honest, it irritates the hell out of me most of the time."

"Oh, okay," Ellone replied, understanding perfectly. Uncle Laguna felt much the same way, after all.

"Sorry I couldn't meet you guys at Cosmo," Reeve apologized, "but with things the way they are in Junon right now, it's harder than ever to leave for any length of time."

Cloud nodded. "New Shinra and Vericorps still giving you trouble?"

"Like you wouldn't believe, Cloud," Reeve agreed. "You know either one of them could be the next Shinra if they ever managed to get me out of office. Palmer's not much on his own, but with that money-grubbing bastard Halick Bell behind him, New Shinra's just waiting for me to slip."

"What about Vericorps?"

Reeve shuddered. "Jonas Veridian looks to be another Rufus, only worse. I heard he had his own brother murdered for trying to get out of the company, although nothing's been proven yet. The man's practically impossible to catch."

"So that's why ya hired them blasted Turks, then, ain't it?" Barret growled.

"More or less," Reeve answered. "Better to have them working for me than against me, you understand. I pay them to keep Palmer and Jonas off my back so I can do my job. Those two would like nothing better than to see Junon International go down in flames, and me with it."

Cid frowned, glancing irritably around the immediate area. "So where is that fuckin' red-haired slob? You'd think he'd have the goddamn decency to show up."

"Where else?" Reeve shrugged, indicating a large shack serving as a tavern.

"Shit…" Cid spat. "You couldn't drag his sorry ass out here, Reeve?"

"Believe me, I tried. Might as well try to move a mountain for all the good it would do."

Cid snorted in disgust. "Last thing we need is a goddamn drunk on our hands, Cloud. Let's just leave Reno to his fuckin' booze and move the hell on."

"It would be prudent," Red agreed. "I do not see how his presence could be of much help to us."

Ellone glanced from one friend to another, wondering which way the decision would fall. Had it been up to her, she would have opted to leave this Reno behind. He didn't sound like the sort of person she would want traveling with her in a dangerous situation. The sound of boots crunching in the dirt, however, broke off the debate before it could finish.

"Now is that any way to talk about a dear old friend?" a voice quipped.

From the direction of the tavern strode a lanky man perhaps in his early thirties, his long red hair pulled back in an unkempt ponytail. His dark blue business suit bore so many wrinkles that Ellone didn't think any amount of ironing could save it, and the tails of his white collared shirt hung out behind his back and over his belt. A dark red tie bound in a haphazard excuse for a knot hung loosely around his neck, and a pair of dark sunglasses lay perched rakishly above his forehead.

"Fuck you, Reno," Cid hefted his feathered lance. "Piss me off any more than you already have and I'll shove this thing so far up your ass you'll have a permanent fuckin' wedgie."

Reno sneered, folding his arms in front of his chest. "Try it, you old jackass."

Cid swore and moved to do just that, but Cloud immediately stepped in front him, shaking his head. "He's not worth it, Cid. Let it go."

The crusty pilot fumed visibly, but in the end he relented, much to Ellone's relief, and moved off to the side, muttering under his breath. She didn't want a fight to break out now, of all times. Much as she figured her friend could hold his own in such a contest, something told her that Reno would at least make it costly. He could only be trouble, she decided, and was about to say as much when she suddenly realized he was looking right at her, his eyes sizing her up in ways she did not care to think about.

"So this is the babe, eh?" Reno flashed her a lewd grin. "Not bad. Not bad at all…"

"Babe…?" she echoed.

Vincent immediately brought up the Death Penalty and cocked the trigger, the hammer clicking loudly into place. "Back off. Now."

Vincent uttered each word with such deadly cold menace that Reno actually did step away. Ellone let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and moved a little closer to Vincent, who hadn't yet put his gun down or taken his fierce gaze away from Reno. It wasn't until Ellone gently pushed Vincent's arm down that he finally relaxed, although he kept the gun in hand.

"Don't be so touchy, Vincent," Reno replied coolly. "It's unprofessional."

"Stow it, Reno," Cloud glared. "We don't have time for this."

The slovenly Turk shrugged. "Fine, fine. At least let me introduce myself properly to the lady before we all go on this wild goose chase of yours."

"Make it quick," Cloud replied.

"You rush a job and you'll fuck it up for sure," Reno countered, then turned to Ellone. "Reno Lynley of the Turks, at your service."

Ellone nodded warily. "Ellone Loire. I can't say as I have a title, though."

"Or one you'd want me to know about," Reno smirked. "If I were you, I wouldn't count on these stiffs here to bail you out when the shit starts to fly."

"I can judge for myself who to trust, thank you," Ellone replied curtly. "I don't need any help from you."

Reno shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"If you're through," Cloud shot a pointed glance at Reno, "then I think we should set about getting some supplies before heading into the mountains. I want to be through the Sleeping Forest by dusk, so let's spread out and get what we need. We'll meet back here in an hour."

The group split off into twos and threes, heading off through the village to prepare for the second, more dangerous half of their journey. Ellone gazed northward where above the treetops of the Sleeping Forest, the mountains rose like jagged, monstrous teeth into the roiling blackness that engulfed the not so distant horizon. Streaks of lightning flashed here and there within the storm, and as she continued to gaze at the storm's billowing, flickering edges, she shivered in spite of herself.

It was spreading. 


	25. Chapter 24 Part 2 of 2

**FINAL FANTASY: POINT OF INTERSECTION** _BOOK 1: THE APPROACHING STORM_

* * *

**Chapter 24, Part 2 of 2**

* * *

Just over an hour later, Ellone stood with the others at the fringes of what was commonly known as the Sleeping Forest. Towering oaks, their branches gnarled and spindly like the fingers of a withered old man, loomed impassively overhead, silent guardians of the path before her. A different sort of quiet hung over this wood, as though all within it lay shrouded in the deepest slumber. It was like walking into a dream, Ellone thought, one shared by the entire forest.

Although there were many passes through the northern mountains, this was the only one that led to the canyon where the Cetra had once dwelt long ago. They had crafted and grown the Sleeping Forest to serve as a way to deter outsiders from entering their homeland uninvited. Anyone traveling through the wood without the aid of the Cetra would fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, never to wake again.

"So do we need to use the Lunar Harp?" Reeve asked quietly.

"No," Cloud shook his head. "Not this time. Ellone?"

She nodded, knowing what she had to do. "I'm ready. All of you, stay back until I tell you it's safe."

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Ellone moved a few yards ahead of the others until she stood just inside the edge of the forest. She let the quiet of the wood fill her, took solace in its peaceful silence and in the gentle whisper of wind that lightly caressed her cheek. Letting her eyes slide closed, Ellone held her arms out before her, palms upward, and began to sing.

It began slowly, a soft murmur of sound that escaped her lips in the lyrical, bittersweet words of a language that was at the same time both strange and familiar. It was the tongue of her people, and as her voice gradually rose higher and the melody began to swell, Ellone immersed herself in the music and for the first time felt like the Cetra she was supposed to somehow be.

The tingling in her blood intensified as her power rose up within her, and she felt the forest stir around her. Furtive whispers passed among the leaves and branches as an invisible wind swept through them and pulled the trees from their long slumber with gentle, probing fingers. Ellone could almost make out a voice in that soft breeze, although it might have just been her imagination.

As she finished the song, its haunting melody lingering in the air, Ellone opened her eyes as her arms dropped to her sides. She swayed on her feet, weariness filling her very bones, and felt her legs turn to jelly and give way beneath her like a house of cards whose foundation had been suddenly swept away.

Strong arms caught her, however, and Ellone knew without looking that Vincent was already there. "Thank you. I didn't… didn't think it would take that much… out of me…"

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'll be fine, I just… I just need to rest for a minute."

He nodded, and the companions gathered in a small clearing just a few yards away. Ellone sat down on a fallen log to compose herself while the others busied themselves preparing for the upcoming journey. Vincent, his dark hair spilling down the back of his crimson cape, stood on the perimeter of the clearing, gazing deeper into the forest.

Certain nothing would escape her friend's notice, Ellone sighed wearily. She would need perhaps all her power and more to get herself and her companions through the storm and into the lower city, and already the use of even this small amount of her power was taxing her much more than she had expected. Perhaps after using so much of it the other night, it was finally starting to catch up to her.

When she felt strong enough to continue, Ellone rose from the log and motioned for the others to gather near her. "Before we go on, there are a few things you all should know."

"What do you mean?" Reeve wondered.

"That storm ahead of us, it's not normal. We can't just walk through it like it was a heavy downpour or something. It would be like trying to walk through a hurricane, I think, only a lot stronger. It's like a rip or tear in the boundary between your world and mine, or something like that."

Red frowned pensively. "As if the very fabric of the Planet is unraveling. I too feel a foreboding about this storm, Ellone. There is something else about it, however, although I don't know quite what."

"I can use my power to shield us from the storm, but you'll have to stay close to me. It takes a lot of energy and concentration to use it even for a short time, and as big as that storm is, I'm sure it'll take us a while to get to where we're going."

"In that case," Cloud replied, "we'll have to be ready. I'm sure your hooded friend will show up at some point, so the rest of us will do what we can to keep it away from you, Ellone. You stay in the middle of the group as much as you can. It'll be hard for us to protect you if you're anywhere else."

Ellone nodded. "I understand."

"Red, scout on ahead of us, but as soon as we start getting close to the storm, get back as soon as you can. Vincent and I will take point. Cid, you watch the rear, and the rest of you stay in the middle with Ellone. We can't get to the ruins without her, and there's no telling what we might run into on the way there. Somehow I don't think this demon of hers is going to be alone."

"Don't worry, Cloud," Reeve patted one of the two kukri daggers hanging from either hip. "We won't let anything get through."

"Since when have you ever done any fighting, Reeve?" Reno snickered. "Outside of that ridiculous stuffed cat of yours, that is."

In less than the blink of an eye, Reeve was standing toe to toe with the lanky Turk, his kukris crossed over Reno's throat. "You might be surprised. Now do us all a favor and shut up."

Reno did just that as Reeve sheathed his blades and stepped away. Without further incident, Ellone and the others gathered up their equipment and started the long march through the forest. Though surrounded by her companions on all sides, Ellone couldn't shake the sense of unease that gripped her. Maybe it was the storm. It seemed to have everyone on edge, not that it surprised her all that much.

"Alright, everyone, let's move out," Cloud ordered, adjusting his shoulder guard even as Red padded swiftly away through the trees with hardly a sound.

Kneeling briefly to retie one of the soft leather hiking boots Cloud and Tifa had given her for the journey, Ellone straightened a moment later and fell into position in the middle of the group. Reeve smiled reassuringly at her from her left, while to her right, Yuffie muttered something under her breath and cast suspicious glances at Reno, who trailed along lazily behind the three of them.

Ellone glanced up for a moment as a low rumble of thunder echoed through the trees, then she settled her eyes on Barret's broad back just a few yards ahead of her and followed him wordlessly through the trees. Vincent and Cloud kept watch farther ahead on either side, leading the way as the group began the long journey to the ruined Cetra capital.

Tifa paced restlessly back and forth on the bridge of the _Highwind_ and tried not to look at the ugly black clouds massing to the north in a murky haze that obscured most of the horizon. Cloud and the others were out there somewhere, maybe even inside that hellish storm even now, though Tifa figured they hadn't quite reached it just yet.

Everything was in hand, yet in spite of the relative calm hovering aboard the airship, Tifa couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that gnawed at her like a particularly nasty rodent. Something wasn't right, or maybe it was just nerves. Goodness knows she had every right to feel unsettled, given her brush with death in the recent attack back at the house.

Nevertheless, her sense of unease remained, deepening even as the billowing ebony storm clouds stretched out from the north with clammy, eager tendrils. Occasionally a burst of lightning would streak through the gloomy skies in a sudden spear of cold light, though from the airship Tifa could hear no sound, no accompanying thunder. She wasn't quite sure what to make of that.

"Something the matter, ma'am?" asked Jenkins, the ship's pilot.

Tifa folded her arms in thought. Was there? "I'm not sure. About how fast do you think you can get us to the Cetra ruins over the mountains?"

"But the Captain—"

"—isn't here, Tom," Tifa interrupted, "I know what he said. Now, can you answer my question?"

Tom Jenkins, who besides Cid had the most flight time at the ship's helm ever since the days of pursuing Sephiroth across half the world, sighed and scratched idly at his chin. "I suppose about four or five hours, more or less. But that's not including however long that monster out there might hold us up, if we even manage to break free of it once we go in."

"Cid's got more in those engines than he lets on, doesn't he?" Tifa pressed him. "If we opened up the engines all the way, do you think that would get us there faster?"

"Yeah, but the Captain's new enhancements haven't been tested yet. Not in actual flight, that is. The new engines could tear us apart if we push them as hard as you're thinking."

Tifa raised an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. "The storm could do the same thing, so what are you worried about? I know Cid said for us to stay here, but something tells me he and the others are going to need us down there, and soon."

"I don't know, the Captain's orders were pretty clear," Jenkins replied, raking his fingers through his short straw-colored hair. "Besides, your husband would kill me if anything were to happen to you."

Knowing Cloud as she did, Tifa didn't doubt the accuracy of the pilot's words. "Listen, Tom. Like it or not, we're going, and I'll fly this ship there myself if I have to. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he sighed.

Moments later there was a deep thrumming from below as the airship's secondary thrusters roared to life, and Tifa had to cling to the guardrail next to the steering yoke as the _Highwind_ shot forward through the gloomy skies. Her gaze fixed on the ominous patch of blackness looming over the mountains, Tifa could only hope she had made the right choice.

Vincent held up a hand in warning as his highly sensitive ears caught a faint rustling in the underbrush a few dozen yards ahead. Bringing the Death Penalty up, he gazed down its dark barrel into the maze of trees and shrubs covering the mountainside. He met Cloud's eyes and nodded as his friend readied his own weapon. The wind gusted like a banshee, whipping through the branches overhead and carrying with it the first sprinkles of rain.

A lean, lupine form covered in brilliant orange fur emerged from the cover of the undergrowth, and Vincent relaxed. It was only Red, returning from his forward position. He padded over to the others, and as he drew closer, Vincent noticed that Red's fur was damp with the coming rain. The group had been traveling for several hours now and were just starting to descend the far side of the mountain, with the skies growing blacker and more ominous with every mile they walked.

"What's it like up there, Red?" Cloud asked.

Red grimaced. "The weather grows fouler not much farther on. You can see that the rain is already starting to come down. It's time, I think, for Ellone to do what she must to shield us from the storm. I don't believe we will have another chance later."

"Are you sure?" Reeve wondered. He, like the others, had donned a cloak to keep out the weather. His was dark blue like the crisp two-piece business suits he normally wore.

"Not three miles from here the gloom grows so dark even I find it hard to see anything. The rain will be coming down much harder, too, I imagine, and the wind becomes much rougher."

Ellone nodded. "Okay, then. I need you all to stay close, everyone, because I don't think I can extend the shield very far. And… I have to really concentrate, or I'll lose it. So if something comes at us, do what you can to keep it away, alright?"

"Nothing will touch you," Vincent promised, fingering the trigger of his weapon.

Giving him a small, grateful smile, Ellone backed up a few steps to give herself some space, held out her arms to either side, and let her eyes close. Vincent watched, his gaze lingering on her petite frame, as she strove to call upon her powers.

A faint dome of translucent whiteness gradually began to expand from Ellone's outstretched fingers until it encompassed the whole group. As it passed through him on its way outward, Vincent blinked in wonderment as the fatigue of the last four hours' travel seemed to melt away like a dull weight sliding from his shoulders. A quick glance at the others told him they had experienced a similar reaction.

Opening her eyes, Ellone gazed at the others with a renewed sense of strength. "Let's go."

They set out at once, moving without a word ever closer to the brewing black heart of the storm. Vincent scanned the thinning trees for signs of danger, but as yet none presented themselves. A quick glance back at Ellone showed her walking forward with the others, her hands clenched in tight fists out to either side of her body as though she were literally holding the shield in place.

An hour later, they had cleared the upper reaches of the forest and begun climbing through the narrow pass in the mountains. Rocky outcroppings stuck out everywhere, and the trees gave way to scrub brush and odd, coral-shaped formations of different colored stone. Vincent wondered briefly whether this region had once lain beneath the sea in ages past, but shrugged the matter off as irrelevant.

The farther they went, the more difficult it became to see anything as the blackness of the storm slowly engulfed them. The wind howled, but Vincent found its mournful keening oddly muffled, as though he were hearing it with cotton stuffed in his ears. He realized that Ellone's power must already be at work. It didn't block the rain, however, as he noted when the first spatters started coming down. Vincent had just wiped some out of his eyes when he saw movement in the darkness ahead.

"Cloud," he hissed. "We have company."

The words were barely out of his mouth when the billowing storm clouds seemed to ripple and tear, spilling inky tendrils of blackness all around Vincent and the others. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cloud bring up his sword, which had shifted from its customary purplish glow to pure white. Red growled low in his throat, and Vincent brought up the Death Penalty as unseen foes slid toward himself and the others. The shield flickered but did not fall.

Vincent's eyes darted into the gloom, trying to find a target, but nothing showed itself. They must be closing around them, but so far the shield was keeping them at bay. Whatever they were, they dared not even show themselves yet. Or were they waiting for something? Vincent's suspicions were confirmed when, not a moment later, an eerie screeching cry split the air, followed by another and still one more. He whirled, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, and blinked as not one, but _three_ hooded and masked forms converged on the group from all sides.

"Oh, _shit…_" Cid gaped.


End file.
